Whenever You Remember
by heiots
Summary: What happens after Juliet sets off the bomb? Sawyer sinks into depression, until a phone call changes everything. Can our tragic couple ever make it through the odds to be together?
1. Missing You

First of all, I gotta say the original, together with your wonderful reviews, are gone apparently, (I truly apologize, esp to eyeon) but at least the fic's back up! If you need alerts, you'll have to click that option again. I've not yet updated, but I'll try to get one up soon. :)

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"_Sawyer."_

_"Sawyer, wake up!"_

_"Come on, Sawyer. We gotta get moving!"_

_The numerous voices sounded far off, as though the owners were speaking through a long tunnel. They echoed around him, calling repeatedly to someone, a man with a strangely familiar name._

_"Sawyer!"_

_It irritated him. It made his head pound. He fought the sudden urge to clamp his hands over his ears as the voices grew closer. Louder._

_"Sawyer, come back!"_

_"Sawyer! Wake up!"_

_His head was spinning wildly. In the darkness, there were painfully bright flashes of white. Then out of the chaos and deafening noise, he heard a whispered voice, one that somehow managed to silence the rest._

_James._

He bolted up straight in bed even before his eyes flew open, gasping desperately for breath. Outside his closed window, he realized the sky was black. Thunder rumbled a warning of an impending storm. The air was still in the room, but cold sweat drenched his back, trickling down his face. He clenched his trembling jaw, balling his hands into tight fists.

Yet, they would not stop their shaking.

* * *

_The night was beautiful. A handful of twinkling stars were scattered across the vast sky and a sliver of moon lurked behind some clouds. Crickets hid in the bushes, singing as they did every other time they were out. They sat on the porch swing, bathed in soft orange light._

_"My angel, beautiful angel, with eyes as blue as the August sky."_

_He paused mid-song and lightly tugged at the gold strands of the blonde silently giggling beside him. "You're laughing."_

_Crystal blue eyes flickered upwards with an unspoken accusation._

_You peeped._

_"Silly. I ain't gotta. I know you well enough." He gave her hair another tug, earning a well-aimed poke in his ribs. "Ow."_

_Satisfied, she settled back down beside him, resting her head on his chest. He knew she was listening to his heart, something she always loved doing. A smile crept onto his face._

_Juliet Burke._

_She changed his life by always being there for him. She offered him unconditional love. He pressed a kiss on her head, suddenly overcome with the immense love he felt for her._

_"Hm," she murmured. "What was that for?"_

_"Nothing," he replied huskily. "Ya know you're the best thing that has ever happened to me?" He felt her pull away and met her eyes, not missing the way she returned his tender look. Lifting a hand, he traced the outline of her face. "You ain't ever gonna leave me?"_

_She reached up and grasped his hand. "No. Will you?"_

_"Not a chance."_

_Angel, the sweetest angel, and oh, she lets me call her mine.__  
_

He could not eat. He hardly slept. The little sleep that he managed to get these days was fitful, plagued with dreams of long, blond hair and laughing blue eyes. Mostly, he did nothing. He'd find himself often staring into space, barely breathing, the living dead.

Numbed to the core.

He wanted to feel her fingers running through his hair again, how she would cup his face when they kissed, the way she fit just right in his embrace.

Perfect. _So damn perfect._

He cried there in the dark loneliness of the room as the first signs of rain were released from the angry skies.

_Juliet, come back. Please come back. I miss you._

_I really miss you._

* * *

_He knew if it weren't for Jack, he'd be wandering around the airport once he was off the plane, dazed and devastated over his loss. He was guided through the throng of fellow passengers, pulled along by the arm, as certain faces, faces that he recognized, stood out from the crowd. _

_Kate. Sayid. Hurley. Sun._

_Whenever their gazes collided with his, he would yank his eyes away and plant them elsewhere. It was hard enough that he had lost her. He didn't need to suffer under their looks of pity, didn't need another reminder of what was already gone._

_They halted at the baggage area, where he barely heard Jack telling him to stay put. The people milled all around him, grabbing their belongings from the luggage carousels. He wasn't even sure when the doctor left and when he returned. _

_Staring at the endless number of bags passing by, he was somewhat aware of Jack loading their trolley. It never crossed his mind to help or to even search for his own luggage. He thought about how strange it must be for a rugged Southern man with unkempt hair to be seen with someone like Jack, all neat and seemingly poised with his suit and tie, but even the most expensive clothes could not erase the haunted look about them._

"_Alright. Let's go."_

"_Ain't nowhere for me to go," he muttered._

_Only down in that damned hole. Where she is._

_His eyes clouded over, the memory etched deeply in his mind. He recalled the desperation and the pain on her face as she clung on to him, the warm stickiness of blood as he gripped her hand, the dread that had frozen him when he realized the sacrifice she was about to make by the heartbreaking look in her eyes. _

_His stomach twisted and thought he had eaten nothing, there was a vile taste at the back of his throat. Pushing away the people blocking his path, he stumbled off, ignoring Jack's calls to come back._

It was at that point of time when his brain registered the fact that he was being spoken to. He blinked, realizing that he had been clutching the phone to his ear for the past five minutes.

Kate. Kate was on the line.

"So Jack says he wants to meet us. Thursday's all right with you?"

His lips proceeded to form a no as his throat worked hard to make a sound.

"Sawyer?" There was a pause. "He feels bad about…Juliet."

_Juliet._

"Are you there, Sawyer?" He heard her breathe deeply. "It's been weeks since we came back. The last time we saw you…you weren't in a good shape. If you could just let us see you—"

"I ain't goin' nowhere, Kate," he bit out the words, each layered thick with bitterness. He knew he was being unreasonable, but at that moment, he could hardly care less. His snappish attitude was probably making her border on the edge of tears. Running his hand across his tired eyes, he said wearily, "Just leave me."

Her reply was so soft that he nearly missed it.

_She wouldn't have wanted you to be this way._

His throat tightened.

"Sawyer. Please."

She was begging now. Swallowing hard, he brushed roughly at something wet on his cheek and in a voice hoarse with pain, he said roughly, "But she ain't here anymore, is she?"

He had said all that he wanted to and replaced the receiver back in its cradle with a gentle click.

_Conversation over. _

Remaining where he was, he allowed his eyes to roam around the room without the slightest interest. It was still raining out. He squinted a little, not being able to see more than a metre through the heavy sheets of rain. A little smile crept onto his face. Juliet liked watching the rain.

He pushed himself off the chair, a little too fast, apparently, because he nearly toppled over. Damn, he thought, and leaned heavily against the table. At that moment, the phone began ringing shrilly, the sound piercing through his head. He was definitely not happy about this. With a grimace, he reached for it and growled, "Hello?"

"LaFleur."

His jaw went slack. Nobody, nobody, called him by that name ever since the flash. Dropping back into the chair, he pressed the phone closer to his ear.

"Is this Jim LaFleur?" The line crackled noisily. This time, he scowled. If this was some kind of joke, it was of very poor taste.

"Jim LaFleur," it repeated, now sounding a tad irritated. "Is this—"

He gripped the phone, hissing out, "Who the hell is this?"

The silence on the other end went on for such a long period of time that he wondered if the other person had hung up, but he could still hear the loud, crackling sound in his ear. It made him uneasy, and that made him mad. "If you're playing some sick game here—"

"Jim LaFleur," it cut in, getting even more distorted and fuzzy. "I have…piece of news."

"What?" He snapped, thoroughly displeased now. "Whoever this is, if you think this is supposed to make me feel better, it ain't workin', ya hear?" But apparently, all that he said was not getting any attention. The bad connection was maddening, and it was tempting him to slam down the phone.

Until he heard that single word. _That name._ It made him sit, frozen in that spot, as the voice weaved through the distortion again and made its way to him, stealing his very breath.

_Juliet…Burke…is alive._


	2. New Beginnings

**Chapter 2**

Blue eyes studied Benjamin Linus from across the kitchen. Living on the island for the three years had taught her to mask her feelings but she had to admit that he still had the ability to unnerve her. He was always an odd one, incredible stoic, and for the past minute, he'd been returning her stare steadily without saying a thing.

"I assume you have something to tell me, Ben, to come knocking on my door so early in the morning." She crossed her arms. It took incredible effort on her part not to flinch as his eyes, large and unblinking, remained on her.

"We'll be having someone come in tomorrow. You remember how it felt like to be the new person on the island."

She cocked her head. What was he getting at?

"I'd like you to make him feel welcome."

"It's not my job—"

"It is now," he told her, quite matter-of-factly, unaffected by her piercing stare. "His name is James Ford, but he goes by the name of Sawyer, lost his parents at the age of 8, has a history of conning women out of their money and leaving them to pick up the pieces." He stopped. "It's all in the file I've given you. You know the drill…don't you?"

She did not answer as she watched him. Ben did not require answers.

"He'll be here in the early afternoon. Everything is already prepared. All you have to do is make him feel at home. I am sure he will be in good care," he finished, and made a move to leave.

"Why are you bringing him here? Does he have special abilities, like I was told I have?" Somehow, the words tumbled out more sarcastic than she had intended them to be.

"You can tell Goodwin," his voice was raised as he turned to look at her, his expression still unreadable. "That from today onwards, you wouldn't have time for him anymore." It was as though he had not heard what she had asked. He let himself out of the house, leaving her to worry about what he meant.

It bothered her that Ben had noticed what she had been doing, but more importantly, why was she given this assignment when she was not the one in charge of the duty? She picked up the thick file next to her, a frown creasing her forehead. James Ford didn't sound like the kind of company she was comfortable being around.

Was there something she ought to know?

Flipping the cover, the details of his life, including a passport-sized photo, greeted her. She scrutinized the picture critically. A man with blond hair, who looked to be quite the heartbreaker, scowled up at her as though the whole world owned him a living.

_Hello, James. Welcome to the island._

* * *

The husky voice of John Mayer filled the room, crooning his favorite song. It was the one he had been playing ever since he was spending his days and nights in the apartment. He had the song on repeat as he reclined on the sofa, nursing a beer.

_When you're dreamin' with a broken heart_

_The wakin' up is the hardest part_

_You're all out of bed and down on your knees_

_And for a moment you can hardly breathe_

_Wondering when's she really here_

_Is she standin' in my room_

_No, she's not_

'_cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone_

He had lost count of the number of times he'd cried every time the song played. It was his sole comfort and companion when no one else could get close enough to offer a shoulder and a listening ear, not that he was much of a talker anyway. He took a swig of his drink, wondering if he was a fool, to pack up and return to the island just because of that one call.

Then again, that single phone call granted him something that he had long given up on. It offered him hope, a lifeline that he could cling on to when there weren't any before.

As John Mayer continued with his tale of heartbreak, saying goodbye and how giving up was always the hardest part, his eyes wandered to his bag, jammed packed with clothes and a couple of books, lying prepared not more than a few feet away.

Just an hour ago, he had rang Jack Shephard and told him about the call, despite knowing the doctor would think he was insane to even consider the fact that she might still be alive. He had been right the first time. Jack had tried to talk him out of his idea, but the attempts to persuade him were futile.

"_She's gone, Sawyer. You have to accept the fact. Trying to find a way back to the island isn't going to help."_

"_I know what happened, Jack. She ain't gone." Not yet. "Getting back there sounds much better than wasting away in this place. My life here is living hell."_

"_Sawyer, there is no—"_

"_Don't you tell me those three years don't exist anymore, Jack. You know damn well they do."_

_It appeared that he had nothing to say about that._

"_Look, I didn't call to discuss. I called to inform you. Basic courtesy. Lest you guys think I've been kidnapped."_

_There was a strangled laugh on the other end._

"_Take good care."_

He had made up his mind, and there was no turning back. If he had survived once on the island, he could do it again, and this time, when he left, he would take her home with him.

* * *

_Sounds of metallic clangs from nearby filled the air. He stood around with his hands in his pockets, squinting at the fast disappearing sun. Dusk came early on the island, they had told him. Hearing approaching footsteps, he turned with a crooked smile on his lips. _

_She was clad in a blue jumpsuit with some sort of cloth wrapped around her hair. Despite the oil and dirt streaks, she was practically glowing with satisfaction._

"_Thanks for waiting," was the first thing she said when she reached him._

_They headed down to the houses, breaking into easy conversation._

"_Guess it's safe to say you enjoyed your first day of work," he drawled._

"_It was relatively easy." _

"_Ain't that a surprise."_

_She glanced at him, amused. "What?"_

"_Nothin'. Didn't know you were into cars."_

"_I'm not into into cars. I just fix 'em."_

_It made him chuckle. "Whatever you say. When you told Horace to put you in the motor pool…"_

"_C'mon. Whoever said fixing cars was a man's job?"_

"_Don't look at me. I didn't know you can fix everything."_

_She turned back with a grin. "I'm not Jack. Now Jack, he's Mr. Fix-It."_

_He waited for that spark of jealousy that he always felt whenever someone praised Jack, but to his surprise, it never did come. "Good ol' Doc."_

_They continued down the path, passing the neat rows of houses by the sides. Occasionally, they would recognize one of their new friends and would acknowledge them with a nod and a smile. The air was thick with the sweet fragrance of flowers blooming in season._

"_So, what made you choose security?" _

"_Because I ain't like you. I've got a lack of talent. Security's the only place I won't get people all suspicious." _

_She glanced at him, seeing past his half-teasing manner. "Two months, James. I bet you two months they'll make you head of the department."_

_A smile that was small but genuine appeared on his face. He didn't need to say a thank you. She heard it all the same._

_As they strolled on, she said, "I have to give the credit to my dad when it concerns my skills in the motor pool. He's good at anything and everything."_

"_Ah, like father, like daughter. Runs in the family." _

"_He taught me all that's coming in handy right now. He was good at so many things. He just…wasn't good at marriage." The one thing that mattered the most, she thought. Falling into momentary silence, she struggled to keep her smile intact, but failed to hide the sadness that passed over her features. "And that runs in the family too."_

"_Hey. We're here to make a new start, remember?" He stopped her, one hand on her arm. "None of us has a great track record, if you still ain't clear on that. Whatever it is, I know your parents did a hell of a great job because…damn, look at you, Juliet. You're a baby doctor, a mechanic, you speak Latin… the next thing you'll be whippin' up a ten course meal!"_

_He was glad to see her laugh._

"_Believe me, I'm a total failure at cooking."_

"_Well, I'm sure we can fix that."He winked at her._

_As he saw the sparkle returning in her eyes and the sweet smile that adorn her face, he thought, perhaps they could make this work after all._

* * *

Standing on that dock brought about a feeling that was similar to nostalgia, but not quite. He'd forgotten how much he missed the soothing sound of waves crashing on the shore, the mountains covered with abundant greenery and the sand on the beach, whiter than he'd remembered. Still not quite believing that he was back on the island, he let out the breath which he was holding in a rush of air.

"Sawyer."

He turned, startled by the sudden intrusion of a human voice, which seemed strangely out of place.

Ethan was climbing out of the submarine, wearing a perturbed frown which suggested that all was not well. "There's supposed to be someone here to take you to the houses, but there's been a miscommunication…since there's nobody here." He took a quick look around the area and said, "I guess I've to walk you there myself. Hope you don't mind."

He gave a non-committal shrug. "'course not."

Just the journey towards the barracks was enough to trigger the memories that he had kept under lock and key, memories that were not necessarily painful, but bittersweet, almost like vivid flashbacks of what happened in the past.

The dock, for example, was one of those places. He could point out exactly where she'd been sitting three years back, the color of the shirt she'd worn, the slight uncertainty in her eyes when he'd asked her to stay.

She'd stayed. For him.

His heart gave a tug. He thought it best not to dwell on it any longer, choosing instead to concentrate on what Ethan was speaking.

"Liking the island so far?"

"For the whole five minutes I've been here…yeah."

"You'll like it more. Everything you have in that modern world, we have it here. Electricity, plumbing, tv, radio. There's nothing you'll lack. Really. You gotta live it to believe it."

He gave a short laugh. "Fair enough."

Hoping that it went unnoticed, he quickened his pace just a bit, sure that they'd be reaching soon. That meant just a little while more before he could finally see her.

"No offense, but you're not much of a conversationalist, are you," his companion remarked, curiously glancing at him.

"Gotta give a guy some time to get used to this."

"I suppose you're right."

Truth be told, he wasn't interested in exchanging words with someone whom he'd seen as a baby and was once dead, but of course, he wasn't going to say that.

"We had a lady like that too, but she warmed up to us after a while."

That caught his interest. He kept his eyes in front of him, and his ears open, listening intently.

"We don't usually recruit people, but she's a real talent," Ethan continued. "Came by sub as well some years back. She had the whole OJ treatment, drank the whole glass at one shot."

He saw Ethan shake his head once, as though still in disbelief. The littlest hint of a smile curved his lips. "Sounds like an interesting woman."

"Yeah, yeah, she is. You'll get to know her better, since she's assigned to guide you during your first few weeks here," he said. "Juliet. That's what we call her. Juliet Burke."

* * *

"_Does it hurt?" She asked as she gently cleaned the wound with an alcohol swab. "It's a nasty cut you've got there, and it'll hurt for a bit, but it shouldn't hinder your movements. Doesn't give you an excuse to stay away from work in the motor pool," she said jokingly._

"_Never crossed my mind," the young, dark-haired man replied, more than a tad flirtatious in his speech. "With a hot babe around here, not a chance."_

_She merely smiled as she adjusted the cotton gauze. It wasn't the first time one of the Dharma guys was trying to hit on her. It was just too bad none of them appealed to her. "Alright. It's done. Remember not to get it wet."_

"_I'll try," he grinned. "Wanna grab dinner tonight? You've been here for how many months now…four? And you still haven't accepted my offer of dinner." _

_She saw the glimpse of hope in the hazel eyes that reminded her of someone she once knew, and for that moment, she hesitated._

"_Justin and Becky are coming over too. We're gonna have a barbeque."_

_To his dismay, she shook her head apologetically. "Maybe some other time."_

_He opened his mouth as if to say something more, then catching sight of someone behind her, he appeared to change his mind. "I got to go. Thanks, Julie." Scrambling off the chair, he scooted off in a hurry. Wondering what prompted such a hasty exit, she twisted her head around. _

"_James." She stood up, delighted to see him. "What're you doing here?" _

"_No reason," he said, almost sullenly. "Ain't this a free island?"_

_It was strange, but she thought he looked almost accusing. She took one step towards him, baffled by the tone of his voice. "You okay?" _

"_Why wouldn't I be?" He stalked off then, without even bothering to explain his presence or ask if she wanted him to wait at the motor pool at the end of the day. He always did. She stared, agape, at his retreating back, trying to figure out what they did to the real James she'd been spending the past few months with. _

_Evening came, and found her still vexed over his behavior. Once done with work, she decided to drop by his house. If it was some major problem concerning them in the Dharma Initiative, they ought to solve it together. She did a quick shower, pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a light blue shirt with long sleeves, and headed down to his house._

_Just before stepping up onto the porch, she heard someone address her. She halted, searching the area for the one who'd spoken. _

_Miles was lying on a bench, hands behind his head, partially hidden by the bushes. He opened one eye, focusing on her. _

_She placed her hands on her hips. "How did you know I was here?"_

"_I've excellent hearing. My ears differentiate footsteps." He got up from his resting place, giving a loud yawn. _

"_Have you seen James?"_

"_Not since he left the security office today."_

_Watching her stride away from him, he stretched lazily, commenting, "Lovers' spat?"_

"_We're good friends, Miles," she replied over her shoulder. "Good friends."_

"_That's what they always say!" He called after her. Shaking his head, he turned to go indoors, mumbling under his breath, "And I thought women were supposed to be the intuitive ones."_

_There was only one other place she knew he would be, and it was there at the dock where she found him. He was dangling his legs over the edge, a solitary figure lost in thought. For the longest moment, she stood there, motionless, as he stared out at the darkening waters. Seeing him all alone caused an emotion, one which she could not quite identify, to stir within her. Not knowing what to make of it, she shook it off and started out towards him._

"_Hey."_

"_Hey," he murmured, but his gaze never wavered from whatever was holding his attention out there. _

_She lowered herself onto the wood, then, glanced sideways at him. "Looking for fish?"_

_That caused his lips formed a reluctant, though not entirely unwilling, smile, which was of comfort to her. She always managed to lighten his mood._

_As silence descended on them, a breeze lifted a few strands off his forehead and settled them back down when it was gone._

_She hugged her knees to herself and asked quietly, "Is it her?"_

_She saw him expel his breath slowly. "It ain't that, Juliet."_

"_Then what is it, James?" She asked, probing in a way that wasn't annoying, but let him know how much it perplexed her. "The way you left this morning…it wasn't like you. I'm here because…if there's something bothering you, I want to help." She searched his face, looking for an answer that would explain everything. "We've been telling each other stuff ever since they left." _

_He turned to look at her and almost wished he hadn't, because she held his gaze, refusing to let him break eye contact. The question, left unspoken, hung in the air._

_Why not now?_

_He understood what she was saying, understood she was frustrated because of his refusal to talk. But how could he tell her? How could he form the sentences that would let her know what he had seen in the motor pool that morning was what caused him to behave like a fool, that when he had seen how flirtatious that idiotic Dharma worker was, it made him mad?_

_There was no way he would tell her. Even he thought it was a stupid move on his part._

_What happened to the James that I know, she'd said, genuinely confused and upset about his behavior. It made him regret the harshness of his actions, but some things, he felt, were better left unsaid. _

_He hadn't been planning to stay out here for long, but if he knew her well, she would not budge until he told her the reason for his behavior that morning. Already, the breeze was turning into a chilly gust of wind and he knew the thin material of her shirt wasn't going to keep her warm. _

_So he summoned as much courage as he could, and even then, he didn't dare look at her. "Saw that dumb-ass flirtin' with you this morning." _

_That was all that he managed to say. His cheeks burned with embarrassment and he expected her to scoff at his immaturity. When it didn't come, he sneaked a peek at her, curious to know her reaction to his foolish actions in the motor pool. _

_What he saw was her trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile, her eyes dancing with mirth. _

"_Think it's funny, don'tcha?" He said, and broke into a grin, relieved that she didn't think the less of him. "Come on." He offered her his hand, palm up. _

_She shot him a quizzical look. _

"_It's getting real cold. I ain't gonna let you catch a chill out here."_

_He pulled her up as she took his hand, and together, they made their way back to the barracks._

* * *

From a distance away, he had no trouble recognizing which house she was staying in. In his mind, he recited what she'd told him during those days in the Dharma Initiative. Yellow, one-story, two bedrooms and two bathrooms. She'd even pointed out to him which one it was.

Every step that brought him closer made his heart pound just a little harder. When they reached the building, he stood at the bottom of the porch, his calm exterior hiding most part of his nervousness as Ethan mounted the steps and rapped twice on the door.

Those few seconds he spent waiting seemed to last a whole lot longer. His eyes were transfixed on that white door, his breathing shallow. If he could, he would describe the moments as torturous. At that point of time, he was sure that nothing could drag him away from that spot, not when he was finally about to meet the reason why he came back.

The door swung open.

When the blond-haired woman with the prettiest blue eyes he'd ever seen appeared in the doorway, his heart, which had been racing at the speed of a bullet train, screeched to a stop.

"Hello," she was saying to Ethan, running a hand through her slightly disheveled hair.

He could never forget that voice, yet, he thought he would never in a million light years hear it again. For those three years, that was the voice he heard in the mornings, the voice that offered him words of wisdom and comfort, the voice that restrained him whenever he was tempted to attempt something incredibly stupid.

Then, he saw her glance at him, and gripping the porch railing tightly, he allowed himself a tiny flicker of hope. Perhaps she would remember him. Perhaps he being there would remind her of a certain relationship that was not so long ago.

But no, there was nothing. No flash of recognition in her eyes, no emotions other than a tinge of nervousness on her face. He had brought his hopes up, only to be severely let down in the end.

Disappointment left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Sawyer!" Ethan beckoned him to join him on the porch. He clambered up the steps with legs that felt as heavy as lead, all the while, conscious of her eyes surveying him. Could such a gaze feel so familiar, and yet, so foreign?

"Sawyer, Juliet. Juliet, Sawyer. I'll leave you guys to do the rest of the introductions. Gotta get back to the sub." Ethan bade them goodbye and strode off without another word.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment. He knew he ought to say something, anything, but the fact that she was right in front of him, and that she wasn't a vision, made speaking an impossible task.

"Uh," she started, gesturing towards the door, an open invitation. "Shall we?"

_You bet._


	3. So Near And Yet So Far

**Chapter 3**

She didn't know what to make of their newest addition to the island. He did not look the part of the slick, manipulative conman that she had in mind. Neither did he give off any murderous vibes, which she had somewhat expected, as much as she hated to admit it.

The only thing that she found mildly unsettling about his appearance, were the dark circles around his eyes, which she gathered was the end result of suffering from one too many bad nights. If anything, he came across as a relatively genteel person, albeit a little too intense for her taste.

She couldn't help wondering, was he genuinely curious about her like she was about him or was there another reason behind his stares?

It sent uncomfortable chills to crawl up her spine. Banishing the thought to the darkest corner of her mind, she pasted on a smile. "If Ethan hasn't briefed you yet, I'm Juliet Burke. I'll be here to guide you along and…well, help you get used to the life on the island…not that it's much of a difference, to be honest," she added as an afterthought. "I'm sorry Ethan had to be the one to take you here. It's the first time I'm getting to house someone and we had a little bit of a problem with the arrangements…" She trailed off, noticing the change of look on his face. "Is there a problem?"

"This is where I'm stayin' on the island?"

He had a thick southern drawl. She wasn't used to hearing that around here. "Yeah, but if you—"

"I ain't complainin'. You got a nice place."

The dimples that appeared when he smiled diverted her attention. She blinked twice to get her thoughts back on track. "Thanks. You were supposed to get a house of your own, but the guy meant to leave on the sub today had a last-minute situation to handle, so he, uh…" She wrinkled her nose. "He needed the house back. You'll have to put up with me for the time being until we find other arrangements."

When Ben came to her that morning, bringing news that the accommodation intended for Sawyer was no longer available, she hadn't just been a little put out. In fact, she was certain she would have thrown a wrench at his bug-eyed face, if she had one. Instead, she had pulled her lips into a tight smile, seething all the while.

Expecting a nasty, ill-mannered man who would screw up her already messed-up life here on the island, it came as a nice surprise to her when she realized that James Ford was not that sort.

_Let's just hope we get along fine._

Before she could offer to show him his room, they heard a knock. She threw him an apologetic glance before moving to open the door.

"Goodwin?" Her brow furrowed in confusion as she took in the sight of the blond-headed man at her doorstep. "What are you doing here?"

He was without his usual smile, an aggravated expression on his face. Dread made her chest tighten. "Jules, I don't know how else to say this. Ben…came to see me a while ago. He's sending me off the island."

She felt the air whoosh out of her, vaguely aware that he was still speaking.

"…I'm to take his place on the sub."

_But…why you?_ Meeting Goodwin's grim eyes, she knew exactly why. It caused her stomach to turn. She opened her mouth and forced the words out. "How long?"

"I don't know. Until everything's settled…until he chooses to bring me back." His eyes, distracted by a sudden movement, shifted from her to somewhere over her shoulder. He scowled. "I see the newcomer has arrived."

She caught the hostility in his tone. "It's okay…he's okay. He'll be staying here for a while, but…as soon—" her voice broke. Her vision blurred. She took a shaky breath. "As soon as John…John, he…" The jumble of words no longer made sense to her. Leaving her sentence unfinished, she pressed her arms to her stomach, where a dull ache was throbbing.

"I'm sorry, Julie. I'd take you along if I could."

_If only you could. _

She wished he would wrap his arms around her, but he didn't. Already, they were attracting too many curious stares from people that no doubt wished they could hear their exchange.

"Be safe, okay?"

She nodded dumbly. As he departed from her house, she pressed her lips together in a thin line and retreated back into the safety of her house.

* * *

_He ain't just a friend._

That was the thought that bugged him relentlessly, and his heart sank when she finally got back, her pinched expression not escaping his notice. She did have a lover on the island. And he had brought her bad news.

"I'm sorry." She sounded as though she might start crying any second. "I just…uh, do you want to see your room now?"

He slung his bag over his shoulder and followed her silently. She led him into a room where a queen-sized bed was positioned against the wall, together with a bedside table and an accompanying cushioned chair. A framed mirror hung on the wall by the large cupboard. Pretty yellow curtains - handmade, most probably – partially covered the window of the room.

But he barely noticed any of those details. There was only one person he was conscious of, and at the moment, it seemed like she could hardly care less about him.

The thought of her being in love with someone else made his heart wrench, but it hurt him even more to see her upset. By the time he felt able to say something of comfort, she'd excused herself, telling him to 'rest well' and call her if he needed anything.

As the door closed behind her, he let his bag tumble onto the floor and slumped into the chair by the window.

Everything that had happened ever since he reached the island - realizing that she was alive, finally seeing her, learning that she had a lover on the island - all that he hadn't been aware of before, was way too much to absorb at once. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths.

How was it possible for him to carry on pretending that they were perfect strangers? When they had once shared a home together, when they had once held each other so close, it felt like their hearts were beating as one, when she had once known him so well, she could guess what he was about to say even before he uttered a word.

_Do you know how many nights I lie awake, the image of your face in my mind? _

_Do you know the pain that encompasses me whenever I close my eyes and see you falling into the darkness?_

He'd toyed with the idea of telling her who he really was, revealing their past, and he almost did.

Almost.

In the end, he'd made the decision not to. Premature revelation would yield disastrous results and this wasn't the best time to be labeled as a lunatic.

He ran his hands over his face in frustration, letting out a loud sigh. Hoping for a chance to talk to her again, he stepped out from the room, where he noticed that her door was closed.

Guess he had to find something to occupy himself until she reappeared.

He was wandering to the kitchen to get a drink when he spotted a thick book lying on the table. Curiosity aroused, he walked over, thirst forgotten momentarily. Carrie, the title read. He picked it up, studying it with a critical eye before turning it over to read the summary.

"Ben doesn't like it."

He whirled around with a start. Seeing his surprise, she said with a forced smile, "I thought it wouldn't be nice to leave you here alone…because you just came and all."

_Oh._ Taking in her red-rimmed eyes and pale countenance, it didn't take a genius to guess that she'd spend the time in her room crying. He shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Ben doesn't like this?"

"Yeah. Benjamin Linus. He's…he's in charge here." She paused. "They must have mentioned his name before you came."

As much as he hated lying to her, he didn't give himself a second's hesitation before shaking his head. Guiding the conversation back to the initial topic, he waved the book in the air. "Stephen King ain't his cuppa tea?"

"No, he has a couple of his works. He just doesn't like Carrie, which," she shrugged. "Coincidently happens to be one of my favorites."

"Book looks interesting. I might give it a shot if you don't mind me borrowin' it."

His request clearly threw her off because it took her a while to answer him. "Sure. I just…I didn't take you as the sort to…read." She turned pink, a blush that colored her cheeks.

A laugh escaped from him. That was exactly how she'd responded the first time she saw him with a book in hand. "Doesn't that sound familiar."

"What?"

"I mean," he backtracked, realizing what he'd said. "Most people think a red-necked man like me ain't got no use for reading."

"I didn't mean that."

Seeing her defensiveness, his voice softened. "Never said you did."

Catching the strange look she aimed at him, he immediately flicked his eyes away, scolding himself for carelessly slipping. He had to constantly remind himself that she was not the same Juliet he had spent three years with, as similar as they were to each other.

"We've got a book club, if you're interested in joining us," she said tentatively, obviously trying to make up for whatever insult she thought she'd unintentionally made.

A book club in Othersville?

"We have a gathering at Sue's place tomorrow. It'll be a good time for to introduce you to the others." She smiled faintly. "They would like to meet you."

A lopsided grin appeared on his face. He tapped his fingers on the hard cover of the book, silent for a while, then, proceeded to ask, "Ben will be there?"

She tilted her head, wisps of blond hair falling over her features, and he resisted the urge to brush them behind her ear. "Why?"

That single word allowed him to recognize the guardedness in her tone. He backed down. "Nothin'. He sounds like quite an avid reader."

"Oh, he is," she said tersely. "I can't say if he'll be there for sure but he usually does come for the discussions."

He could almost hear her add an 'unfortunately' at the end. _Touchy subject._ He had been aware of the animosity between Ben and her, just not how deep it went.

"Want something to drink?"

He could literally feel the mood lighten with the change of subject. As she crossed the tiled floor, he sauntered after her, saying teasingly, "I don't suppose you got beer."

The corners of her lips lifted slightly. "You got the wrong house."

"Well then, water's fine."

"Guess it's obvious enough that I don't take beer, huh," she remarked as she filled the glass and handed it to him.

"A blond angel like you drinkin' beer?"

She just stared at him with that unreadable expression, lips still curled, frozen in that half-smile. He'd nearly forgotten how immune she had been to his charms the first time they met.

Downing his drink, he set the empty glass on the kitchen counter. "Didn't think so." He watched her put a pot on the stove to boil, preparation for dinner, he assumed. She bent down to the cupboard and pulled out an unopened packet. Turning, with brows arched, she held it up.

"You okay with pasta?"

How the littlest things she said or did would always catch him off-guard. She was here, and yet, she was not.

_You told me you love making pasta, remember?_

Standing there, gazing at her still clutching that packet, he realized how much he wanted to hold her in his arms, tell her he would make everything all right.

Tell her he loved her.

But he knew all that he would not.

A lump had lodged itself in his throat, one that no amount of swallowing could get rid of.

Her brows dipped. "If you don't like pasta, I could make you something else. It's no trouble."

He cleared his throat roughly, and with much effort, replied, "No. Pasta's fine."

* * *

_Whistling a happy tune, with a bounce in his step, he headed down the winding path to Horace's house. It was a good day. He was settling in a comfortable routine in the Dharma Initiative. For nearly two months now, he was heading the security department. He hadn't gotten the position in the short span of two months, as Juliet had predicted, but still, quick enough to be considered some sort of miracle to him. _

_Somehow he felt that the past incident with Richard played a big part in sealing the deal. _

_He strode past a couple of guys throwing a football around, waving them off when they invited him to join in their game. When he was nearing his destination, however, his gaze swept across the field, taking in the huge oak tree a couple of meters away, and he took a double take. _

_Shading his eyes from the sun, he squinted at the person huddled under the shelter of the tree's outstretched branches. He shook his head, clicking his tongue. _

_Everyone here knows that tree attracts ants like it produces sugar or something. What a joker._

_He changed directions, deciding that he was in the mood to be a Good Samaritan today and warn whoever it was about the agony of ant bites. As he got closer, he realized that 'joker' was none other than Juliet. _

_Remembering his previous comment, he let out an involuntary oops as he took off at a fast jog. _

"_Hey!" He yelled at her, hoping she'd lift her head and spot him._

_She didn't._

_As he got to her, he grabbed her arm and jerked her up roughly. "Do you fancy the feelin' of a thousand needles prickin' you, Juliet?" Seeing her part-confused, part-annoyed look, he pointed to the trail of red ants marching up the tree in a straight line. Admirable, and rather cute, if you weren't suffering from their vicious attacks._

_Realization dawned upon her. She offered him a sheepish smile. "I didn't…notice."_

"_I'll say," he muttered as he watched her dust off her pants. He didn't bother to ask what occupied her mind as they returned back to the houses. She would tell him in her own time._

"_I heard Roger yelling at him."_

_He rolled his eyes, but only because he realized why she looked so downcast._

_She'd been thinking about Ben again. _

_Sometimes, he really didn't understand her. After all that man had done to them, how was she able to feel sorry for him? Kid or no kid, he didn't like being near him. Juliet's biggest drawback had to be having too soft a heart._

"_So tell Roger to go fly a kite," he said. Catching the look she sent his way, he threw up his hands and groaned. "Fine. Okay. What do you wanna do?" When he received no answer, he glanced over at her, and to his horror, saw tears welling up in her eyes. _

_Son of a bitch! Did he do that?_

_Seeing his dismayed look, she shook her head, blond tresses getting mussed up. "It's not you." _

_Relief flowed through him. "I can try talkin' to him if you want."_

"_He wouldn't listen."_

_He really tried his best to comprehend, but he just couldn't wrap his mind around it. Slowing to a stop, he turned to her, a frown lining his forehead. "Why are you sorry for him, Juliet? After all he's done to us…how can you look at him and still wanna help?" _

_She bit her bottom lip as he stared hard at her, waiting, unsure what kind of answer he was even expecting. _

"_He's just a kid, James," she said, failing miserably to steady her voice. "I don't look at him and see…Ben."_

_He puffed out a sigh. What could he say? Ever since she'd been introduced to Roger and his son, she'd been struggling with coming to terms that the kid who was quiet and polite when spoken to, the kid who was often beaten and yelled at by his dad, was THE Ben who was the bane of her life._

_He grasped her shoulders, wanting to erase that forlornness from her face. "Hey, I'll talk to him, okay? I can't guarantee he'll listen, but I'll talk to him."_

_Her lips formed a smile that trembled just a tiny bit. Satisfied, he said, "I'm droppin' by Horaces'. Come along. Amy will wanna talk to you." _

_She allowed him to coax her into walking together with him, his arm draped around her shoulders._

"_She'll need some help in planning that party of hers, and she sure as hell is a lot better companion than those nasty ants."_

_And better than being by herself, getting distressed over a certain boy called Ben._

"_You'll go with me to that party, won't you? Amy's plannin' on makin' it a big one. Dance and all that jazz. The entire Dharma Initiative is probably gonna have the day off," he joked._

"_I don't dance."_

_His grin faded. She, the gun-wielding, ass-kicking, car-fixing grease monkey with all her scientific smarts, didn't know how to dance? He wasn't sure if he ought to chuckle or express his disbelief._

"_I don't dance," she repeated, enunciating each word, stubbornness in her tone. _

_Like he hadn't understood the first time round._

"_You're tellin' me you don't know how to dance?"_

"_I didn't say I don't know," she stressed. "I said I don't dance."_

"_Well, that makes all the difference in the world. In the end, you still ain't gonna be dancin'." He folded his arms over his chest. "The next thing you'll be tellin' me is that you ain't goin'." _

_She kicked the loose sand on the ground. "I'm thinking about it."_

_Now what does that mean?_

"_Ames is gonna be real upset if you don't go," he chastised gently. "Come on. It'll be fun. You don't dance, we don't have to dance."_

_She looked down, gazing for a long time at her clad feet, then, back at him, and for the life of him, he didn't know why his heart skipped a beat when she smiled. _

* * *

He trudged off to shower before dinner and washed off whatever filth that had collected on his body. Upon stepping out from the bathroom, he happened to glance towards the living room, and drew a sharp breath when he saw who was standing at the door.

Benjamin Linus.

Apparently, he'd decided to drop by to welcome him to Othersville.

Not taking his eyes off him, he hung the white towel around his neck, letting it soak the wetness from his hair. He was treading on dangerous ground because he wasn't sure how much information the man had about him. Encountering Juliet's gaze from where she was – angling her body away from Ben, he noted - he sent her a small smile and she relaxed a little.

"Hello, James."

Had he mentioned that with the exception of Juliet, he hated people calling him James?

"I'm Benjamin Linus. It's good to have you here with us."

His gaze lingered on the man's outstretched hand just for a bit longer than necessary. He took it, unflinching, the touch of the cool, dry skin against his. "Thank you."

"You were highly recommended," he said. "I heard that you know quite a bit about the Dharma Initiative. Perhaps we can chat about it sometime."

Juliet was hard to read, but this man was an impenetrable shield. He allowed his lips to form an easy smile. "Anytime."

_You gotta do better than this if you wanna keep this shit up. Think conman, think conman._

"Alright then. I hope you adjust well to our life here." He nodded once to him, then, directed his gaze to Juliet who was leaning against the inner doorframe. "You know what to do."

He didn't have to look at her, knowing her eyes were turning an icy blue. The tension felt thick in the air that he swore he had to struggle to suck in a breath. When the door finally closed and they were alone again, he turned to her, but she was no longer there. She'd left her position beside him and was walking to the kitchen in measured steps.

Dinner was more or less a silent affair. She picked at her pasta and only made a show of nibbling on it whenever she caught him looking at her. The conversation consisted of barely two sentences, him saying 'Thank you' when she passed him his plate, extracting an almost inaudible 'You're welcome' from her.

He stole glances at her, who was lost in her own world. He was used to her sharing whatever was bothering her. To have that suddenly taken away from him…he hated that feeling of isolation.

Setting down his fork, he took a deep breath. "Wanna talk?"

Her head jerked up and something resembling surprise flashed across her face, making him wonder if they were anyone on this island that she actually confided in. She looked torn, part of her yearning to be listened to, another part unwilling to divulge any secrets to a man she barely knew.

"You don't seem to like him much."

His words came out sounding less like a question and more of a conclusion that he'd come to.

Her gaze wavered and he noticed the droop of her shoulders, so subtle that he would've missed it if he hadn't been looking at her so intently. For a long while, she did not answer.

_I won't threaten you, Juliet. I won't hurt you._

Then, her mouth opened and the words came, haltingly. "He…isn't as…humane as he seems."

It struck him that humane was an interesting word to be used, but the fact that she was actually opening up to him overshadowed everything else. He felt warmth spreading throughout his body, knowing that if he could make Juliet Burke fall in love with him once, he could do it again.

_Alright. So she didn't say much, but it's a start. The first step is always the hardest._

"But maybe it's just me. You shouldn't judge a person based on one's opinion." She stood up, pushing her chair back, marking the end of their conversation.

He got up as well, and carried his plate to the sink, gaining a smile of appreciation from her.

"We've got a long day tomorrow. You may want to get a good night's rest," she said as she turned on the tap, letting the rush of water flow over the dirty dishes. "Your schedule has been planned out for you."

"Huh. Who do I have to thank for that?"

"Me."

He chuckled. "Well, that ought to be fun."

As she bid him goodnight, he cast one last longing glance at her before turning away. His feet felt like stone as they carried him away from her, away from the brightness of the kitchen lights into the darkness of his room. Now that he was back, just spending one night without her in his sight filled him with a sense of edginess.

As expected, he was unable to sleep, despite keeping her advice to get a good rest in mind. After tossing and turning for nearly an hour, he sat up. Barely flinching as his feet touched the cold floor, he crossed the room to the window, where he drew aside the curtain.

Not too far off, to the left, stood the house of Benjamin Linus. Dark and silent.

* * *

_She was alive._

_That very realization had an instant impact on him. His knees buckled, depositing him into the nearest chair. Finding his voice, he rasped out, "What?"_

"_She's not dead."_

"_But they…they told me she was dead," he stumbled blindly through his words. "They said…"_

"_What do they know about the island?" The disdain couldn't have been more obvious even through the persistent crackling, which had subsided a little. _

_He could only sit, desperately sucking in air through his mouth as though someone had just delivered a punch in his gut._

"_If you're interested, I know of a way you can get back."_

_As though woken up from a deep sleep, he blinked rapidly. Get back? Get to see Juliet again? _

_He gripped the phone with both hands and grasped at one of the questions swirling in his mind. "Who is this?" _

_There was a reply, but it was lost in the midst of crackling and buzzes. Suddenly overcome with panic that the connection might be broken, he pressed the phone to his ear. "Hello?"_

_Then, he heard them, the two words that chilled him to the bone and sent shivers down his spine._

_Charles…Widmore._


	4. Getting Reacquainted

**Chapter 4**

The distinctive aroma of coffee brewing wafted past him, causing him to pause into the hallway as he inhaled deeply. Turning the corner, he saw her by the coffee maker, absorbed in reading a thin booklet. She was dressed in faded blue jeans and a dark green tank top, her hair swept up in a neat ponytail.

_Always ready in the morning._

He smiled and walked into the kitchen. "Cornflakes?" He enquired, dropping into one of the chairs.

"Hey, James."

He picked up the cardboard box, surveying it appraisingly.

"I'm used to breakfast being a simple affair," she said, almost ruefully. "Cereal and milk is the norm around here."

"I reckon you don't eat much, lady," he remarked as he poured the crispy, golden flakes into his bowl. "Wanna join me?"

"I had coffee. Well, I was going to," she added.

He lifted his eyebrows at her reluctance. "Coffee ain't gonna fill an empty stomach and it ain't healthy."

"I do usually take tea, but I thought you'd like coffee."

"Ah, that's sweet, but I'm not much of a coffee drinker either." Cocking his head, he gestured to one of the unoccupied chairs. "Grab a bowl and take a seat. Don't want you faintin' on me when we go trekkin' around the island."

She bit her lower lip. In the end, she complied, not wanting to seem rude by declining his offer. As she set her utensils on the table, he reached over and grabbed the box, letting the contents tumble into her bowl. Then, he planted the milk carton in front of her. "There ya go," he drawled, giving her a wink. "Breakfast, most important meal."

They left the house, bags slung over their shoulders. As they descended the porch, they met a brown-haired woman with numerous smiley wrinkles lining her face.

"Ah, what incredible timing," she exclaimed with a broad smile.

"Morning, Amelia," Juliet greeted her. "This is Sawyer. He just arrived yesterday. He'll be joining us today."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," he said, turning on his charm and letting his dimples show.

"Nice to meet _you_," she replied, first gazing at him, then at Juliet with a grin that he could only describe as cheeky. A replica of her grin appeared on his face when he saw the pretty blonde's cheeks redden slightly.

"The next meeting's at her house, by the way. The book club," the younger woman told him, quick to bring about a change of subject. "You'll have to go because she makes the best apple crumble tarts on the island and you can't miss those for the world."

He watched them exchange smiles, and was glad there was someone that Juliet could call a friend.

"Do you want to come over for lunch? I have Alex and Karl over. You can join them."

"Alex and _Karl_?"

"It's just a meal, Juliet. Ben's not gonna do anything," she said, lifting an eyebrow. "So, how about it?"

Juliet looked at him. He lifted a shoulder, letting her know that it was her call.

"Alright, but we've got to go right after."

The conversation turned to books and club members as they walked down the path which had trodden on so many times.

"The moment Sue chose Wuthering Heights, I've not heard the end of it from Adam. He hates reading it even more than Carrie."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"It's a big step for her. If it weren't for you and your Carrie revolution, we'd still be boring ourselves with books only suited for Adam or Ben."

He wasn't surprised then when some old guy, probably Adam, started to tear the novel apart during the meeting. He was tempted to stand up for the supporters of Wuthering Heights, but he had no intention to be the one responsible for turning the discussion into a debate session or his first meeting would most likely end up to be his only meeting with the club.

He watched and listened, and made a very interesting observation. The readers who adored the novel were female, and those who disliked it, like Adam, were, of course, male.

As for Ben, he didn't show his face. Someone mentioned he'd been complaining about back pain, but no one seemed to be all that concerned. He wondered how different it would have been with Ben's presence around. Would it have been as chaotic?

The discussion lasted a little over an hour with them proceeding to Amelia's house after. Juliet was dangerously silent when they were having lunch, obviously miffed. It was a little like the calm before a storm, he thought.

"I cannot stand him. I really can't."

Amelia reached across the table and patted the distraught blonde's hand. "It's not like you don't know Adam and his chauvinistic ways, dear."

Her eyes flashed. "Doesn't make it any better."

"I don't think we should be affected by ol' Grumpy."

They looked at him simultaneously, having forgotten he was there.

"He is a bugger."

That elicited a giggle from Juliet, and Amelia chuckled. He grinned and resumed eating his submarine sandwich, Italian bread filled with slices of ham, bacon, cheese and lettuce.

"You've read Wuthering Heights then?"

He swallowed his mouthful of food. "Good book."

"You're the first man on this island who likes it then," Juliet said dryly. "The rest of the male species detest all the books we women choose."

"Maybe they just don't like sad stories." He leaned back, crossing his legs under the table. "Heathcliff is a great character. Very pitiful. He loved Catherine but couldn't have her." Here, he cast a quick glance at Juliet.

Amelia's lips formed a silent 'oh' whereas the object of his attention merely blinked.

He wrinkled his forehead when the silence prolonged. "What?"

"You have to forgive us, Sawyer. We're just…unused to having men like you." Amelia threw Juliet a meaningful look, who feigned ignorance. "A Heathcliff sympathizer. I know someone who'd appreciate that."

"Amelia!" A yell from the front of the house stopped their conversation.

"That would be my other guests in need of some manners," the elderly woman said as she got up. "Excuse me."

"You never cease to surprise us, James."

"Ah, well, ever heard that appearances can be deceiving?"

"I guess—"

"Hello!" Alex bounded into the room, full of vitality, interrupting them once more. Karl appeared right behind her, visibly subdued. "Boy, those sandwiches look good."

Juliet cleared her throat discreetly.

"Oh. Hello. You must be Sawyer."

"And you must be Alex."

She looked pleased. "Correct. This is Karl. He's my boyfriend."

"Alex."

"Come on, Juliet," the young brunette complained, plopping into an empty chair. "Dad's not here anyway."

"She's right," Amelia re-joined them, two giant sandwiches resting on plates similar to those already on the table. "Ben's not here. He's not spying in my house."

Both youngsters nodded their heads vigorously, but both he, and Juliet, he realized, kept theirs very still.

They left near one in the afternoon and headed to their next stop, the recreation room, where everything was exactly the way he remembered it. The pool table, the arcade games, and even the board games were stacked in the same place, but unlike when he was here during the Dharma years, the room was dark and stuffy.

He meandered further in, she trailing behind.

"Perhaps life on the island ain't looking so bad after all," he remarked off-handedly. "You come here often?"

"Not really."

"No time for fun?"

She didn't reply. He dragged his fingers lightly over the roughening dark turquoise top of the pool table. He always got a kick out of it whenever she trumped the Dharma guys at the game, and it was often. Of course, he had been the one giving her tips and hadn't expected anything less. Not from her.

"What tickles?"

He jerked his head around. "Huh?"

"You were staring at the pool balls…and…grinning."

"Oh. Uh…pool brings back some memories." He managed a smile, thankful when the odd look on her face vanished.

"Well, I suppose you can play pool with Tom. He's pretty good."

He tried not to grimace at the thought. No, he wanted to stay far, far away from Zeke.

Then they were out in the fresh air again, heading away from the houses to the jungle.

"That's the sonar fence. It keeps out wildlife. You'll be surprised at the kind of animals we get here. Best not to be out alone. You don't know what may come attacking you." She regained walking, shoes making soft, squishy sounds on the grass. "There's a beach down that way. If you don't mind walking for a bit, I can take you there."

He knew the way there, perhaps even better than she did.

Standing at the edge of the beach, they looked at the long stretch of sand that beckoned them to sink their feet into its abundance of warm particles.

_We used to visit this place a great deal. You'd step in my footsteps. Every time I looked back, I'd see one set of footprints, and you'd laugh and say angels don't leave footprints on the sand._

But he did not move. He was waiting. He wanted to see what she would do.

When she bent down and undid the laces on her shoes, he followed suit, slipping off his shoes and putting them on a patch of grass, next to hers. He kept his hands in his pockets as they strolled alongside each other, afraid that if he didn't, he might reach for her hand out of habit.

"So...ya ever think of getting' off this place?" He dug his feet deeper into the sand, feeling the bits trickle between his toes. "Miss your family?"

At the painful silence that followed his words, he felt regret creep into him for unintentionally causing her hurt. For a long time, the sound of waves crashing on the shore was all that he heard.

"You know," she finally started, a tremble in her voice. "Carrie was…is," she corrected, flinching at the mistake. "It's my sister's favorite book."

He glanced sideways at her, somber.

Rachel.

"I…I haven't…seen her for years." A tear trickled from the corner of her eye and down the side of her face.

His hands gripped the inside of his pockets, wads of cloth in his fists. He'd get her home. He'd get her off this island or die trying.

He wanted to tell her. He had to tell her.

"We should go back," she said, avoiding his gaze. "It'll be getting dark soon."

A missed opportunity.

He swallowed his disappointment and retraced his steps. Her footprints lay beside his, where the tide would wash them away even before they reached the barracks.

They trekked their way back, tramping on the long grass, brushing away the occasional creeper dangling mid-air. The crickets were out in full strength whereas the chirps of the birds were getting softer with each passing minute.

"I think we should've left a little earlier. It's getting really dark."

He grinned. "Ya scared of the dark?"

"If that was the only thing I was scared of," she replied in an equally playful tone. "I think I—" At that moment, she stumbled and her sentence ended with a yelp as she fell onto the ground.

"Juliet." Her name slipped from his lips as he saw her go down. He crouched down beside her, worry written all over his face.

"I tripped."

He twisted around. A protruding tree root stood out in the diminishing light of dusk, the guilty culprit.

He turned back to her. "Ya hurt?"

"I…cut my arm."

He gently held her wrist up to the fading light, where an angry-looking cut glistened with blood.

"It's all right. Just need to wash it when I get back." She tried to brush away his concern, wincing as he helped her up. "I must've sprained my ankle," she whispered in answer to his unspoken question.

"I'll carry you."

"No, it's okay. It's not that far to the barracks."

Ignoring her weak protests, he swept her up, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. He covered the rest of the journey with long, even strides and within a couple of minutes, they were back. She persuaded him to let her down at the porch, assuring him that she was fully capable of making her way in.

"We'll get it washed and I'll apply the medicine for ya."

He heard her breath hiss through her teeth when the cool water ran over the wound. Once it was washed clean, he helped her to a chair.

"Better?"

"Better." She gave him a faint smile, but he didn't buy it.

"Hang on." He ran into the bathroom, the one that was situated beside her bedroom. With a quick scan around the toilet, he located the small cupboard below the mirror.

A ghost of a grin appeared. His memory served him right.

He returned to her side with the first-aid kit in hand. "Just bear with it for a little while," he told her. Soaking the cotton bud in the medication, he paused for a split-second, then, pressed it to the cut. He felt her muscles twitch. "Sorry."

He tried to clean her wound as thoroughly and painlessly as he could, having seen her grit her teeth the one time he glanced up at her. He dabbed the last part of the injury and dropped the used cotton into the plastic bag.

As the sting from the medicine slowly faded, she watched him tear open a new packet of gauze and asked, "How did you know where to find the kit?"

He kept his head down. "I guessed it. Most people put their kits in the bathrooms."

"Oh."

It was done, but he wasn't ready to leave her.

Not just yet.

He kept his hand on her arm, letting his touch linger on her skin. He lifted eyes that burned with intensity, meeting hers, and he knew.

She felt it too.

_You know me, Juliet. And you loved me once._

How long it took her to tear her eyes away from his, he didn't know, but when she shifted, he released his grasp on her.

"Uh…thanks for your help," she said quietly.

He merely smiled, just a trace of sadness in his eyes.

* * *

_There was a nervous flitter in her stomach. Butterflies. She hadn't those in a long time. Then again, she hadn't landed herself in a situation like this in a while._

_She felt the brush of his lips, then, he pressed them against hers, softly, sweetly. Her hand crept up to his cheek, resting there as she returned his kiss with slight pressure. His lips curved into a smile and she felt hers follow suit, matching his every movement._

"_Hm. You taste like sunshine, sweetheart."_

The hard spray of hot water drenched her hair, streaming down her golden locks and splashing onto the shower floor. Under normal circumstances, she would have turned down the temperature but she had decided that she needed the heat to shake her up a bit.

It confounded her, those dreams that kept recurring every night for the past week. She'd dismissed them the first few times, believing they were merely the result of her thinking too much about James, because that was all her dreams had in common.

What troubled her the most was that those dreams always seemed so…_real_.

Not to mention, this man, whom she barely had any knowledge of apart from the information in his file, never stopped giving her the impression that he knew her inside out. Every once in a while, she would catch him staring at her and she would feel as though he was looking into her, piercing right through those protective walls she'd built around her.

She inhaled through her mouth, keeping her breath in until the tightness in her chest became unbearable, forcing her to release the air trapped within her. She reached out to turn off the water, and stepped out from the shower. The steam from the hot shower had fogged the mirror, creating a hazy reflection that stared back at her.

There were those moments where he would astound her with his little remarks and actions. The other day, he'd made her a cup of tea exactly the way she liked it, and nobody but her sister, had ever managed to do that.

It had been pouring out that very same day. She'd sat on the couch, her knees drawn to her chest, staring out the window when he'd lowered himself next to her. At that moment, he softly told her that he loved gazing at the raindrops and hearing them splatter on the roof of the house. She'd been too stunned to say a word, almost expecting him to say it was a therapeutic experience next. The words that she would have said came from his mouth instead.

Perhaps he'd known her in another life.

Within the next hour, she got dressed, blow-dried her hair and fixed a quick dinner of macaroni and cheese. She was no great chef, certainly not like Amelia, but she was able to make a decent meal.

Dusk found her seated on the floor, using the couch as a backrest, with eyes glazing over, staring unseeingly at the words printed on the book she held in her hands.

The squeak, made from the swinging of the front door, finally shook her from her thoughts, preventing her from further delving into the mystifying situation. She lifted eyes to the tall, blond man who just walked in.

"You're back. Just in time."

"In time for?" He shut the door with a force that was uncalled for. "I tell ya, one day Danny boy's gonna get it from me."

"Did you rile him again?"

"I rile _him_?" He scoffed, pausing in the midst of pulling off his shoes. "Surely you are familiar with his temperament."

"As I am with yours, James. It's not as though I don't know you."

All negativity vanished in that instant as he brightened. "So that means you do."

She averted his seemingly overly hopeful gaze, somewhat uncomfortable with the way he responded to her. A change of topic would come in handy right now. "You best steer clear of Danny. He acts on impulse too often. You don't wanna be near him when he blows his top."

He raised his brows as he dropped beside her on the floor. "That man ain't exactly the kind of company I want to keep, Juliet, but I got a score to settle with him."

Her forehead puckered in a frown. "I'm serious, James. Don't even think about messing with him."

He observed her silently for a little too long, then, a quick smile formed on his face. "Whatever you say, Goldilocks."

"Good." She tossed a thick book onto his lap. "Shower, cowboy, and then it's time for Latin."

His head spun endlessly with the nouns and pronouns and whatnots of the Latin language. For the past minutes, he'd been struggling to soak in the first few pages of the book that was supposed to teach him the basics of what he sure was the toughest language he'd ever come across. He loved reading and he loved books, just not this sort. Frustrated, he shoved the offending item away from him.

Why, oh why was he doing this?

"Here you go." A tall glass of lemon tea with ice cubes was set before him. Its counterpart followed after with water droplets already forming on the outside.

Oh, right. He was doing this…for her.

"How's it going?"

"Just peachy," he remarked dryly. "But let's say I'd truly appreciate it if I had a little help here. Tell me again, why do I have to put myself through this?"

"It's a requisite, James. Everyone here needs to know how to speak Latin. Language of the enlightened, so I was told." She picked up the book, seating herself next to him. "We'll go slow, okay?"

He didn't reply. Struck by the closeness of her proximity for the first time within the week, he felt his heart go into overdrive. Her eyes were a stunning blue. He was reminded of the time he once told her he could lose himself in them. Those very same eyes had a tendency to turn a stormy grey whenever she got upset.

"Ita," she was saying.

His mouth formed the word, matching hers. "Ita."

"That means yes."

He could hardly focus on her words, much less learn them, but he whispered, "Yes." His arm brushed hers by accident, making his skin tingle.

"Nōn."

He swore he was suffering from brain fog. His mouth must be on autopilot because there was no way he knew what he was speaking. Her eyes were utterly mesmerizing.

"No."

His gaze dropped to her lips. They were tempting, so tempting.

"Exspectā."

Her voice had lowered to barely a whisper, and he knew that whatever it was, she felt it too.

He hadn't been aware, but he'd been leaning in, drawn towards her, until they were only inches apart. He caught the scent of her newly washed hair. Intoxicating.

"Please."

He felt the warmth of her breath as she spoke, heard his voice murmur a husky 'please', and then, their lips met. The last thing he saw was a flash of blue before her lids fell shut.

He wasn't sure how much time passed. Their kiss could've been a few seconds, or even minutes. All he knew was that it was the sweetest experience he had in a long time. It was alluring. It was all things at once and it felt like fire running through his veins.

When they broke apart, his heart was pounding in his chest, and before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out.

"You still taste like sunshine."

He watched as the slight smile slipped off her face, and she turned pale as her mouth fell slightly open, her eyes widening.

Her reaction struck him as odd. Why would his sentence have such an impact on her unless…_unless she did have some recollection about him. _

He drew a sharp intake of breath. Was it possible…

She had not taken her eyes off him, but the distance between them was most certainly growing, slowly but surely. There was incredulity written all over her face, incredulity and something else that he couldn't recognize.

Should he say something? But he was at a loss. He didn't know what to say.

When she pulled herself up, he followed suit, stuttering her name as she walked away from him, hoping she'd stop.

She didn't.

In a moment of desperation, he reached to the depths of his heart, releasing the words that he'd kept trapped inside. All the while, he'd been longing to say them and now, he could. Though they were spoken in a voice choked with emotion and by someone obviously unused to the language, they did what he prayed they'd do.

They brought her steps to a halt.

Hope rose within him. She twisted around with a hesitant look. All of a sudden, he was aware of his breathing, calm and even, as he watched the conflicting emotions play across her face.

"Te Amo, Juliet Burke," he repeated clearly, his voice steady and unwavering. Only the intensity in his eyes betrayed him. "I love you."


	5. Dreams, Reality And Painful Deception

**Chapter 5**

His mouth was dry, he was emptied of words, so why was it that all she did was to sit there, hiding her face in her hands? He'd finished talking more than five minutes ago, which he reckoned ought to be sufficient time for a response, good or bad.

"Now would be the right time to say somethin', Juliet."

She pushed her hands back, letting them rest on the sides of her head. Her eyes flickered towards him. "You just told me we were once living together during the 1970s, James. What is it that you want me to say?"

She'd tried to keep her tone neutral but he could hear the tinge of disbelief in her voice. He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"You said we worked for the Dharma Initiative. You did security and I was in the motor pool." When he nodded, she went on. "And we were there for three years. The people there," she paused, frowning as she tried to recall the names. "Miles…Jim—"

"Jin."

"Jin…and Horace."

He felt a smile tugging his lips. "You helped his wife give birth. To a baby boy." He faltered a bit then,. Clearing his throat, he said quietly, "You were so happy."

She stared at him, no longer trying to hide her skepticism.

"I swear, Juliet. I ain't lyin'."

"A baby boy."

He hesitated. Should he or should he not?

Might as well to go for it.

"They called him Ethan."

She let her hands fall back to cover her face. "This is a good joke, James," she said, voice muffled as he bit back a frustrated groan. "Very good. You nearly got me there. For one moment, I really thought—"

"Bloody hell, Juliet, I ain't—"

"I cannot believe anyone sane enough to want to come back. And you want me to believe that you actually chose to come back when you managed to leave this hell of an island." She stopped, her piercing gaze never shifting from him. "You say you came back…because of me, or…or someone who looks like me, someone who'd died—"

"Supposedly," he interjected.

"Ok, supposedly," she corrected. "Because somehow I fell down a shaft. Is that right?"

He nodded, watching her run a hand through her hair, then, drain the last of her coffee in a single swallow. She'd stubbornly insisted on having the beverage even though he told her coffee always made her queasy. But then again, she already knew. Maybe she just didn't want to admit that he was right.

In more ways than one.

"I know this sounds crazy—"

"It's not just crazy, James. It's impossible."

"Then tell me how you explain this! Tell me how I know so much. Tell me how I know everythin' about you."

He spoke with the confidence of a man who was sure of himself.

She wished she could do the same. To reply that this was merely a freak coincidence was a weak refute. As she ran through possible explanations, the dreams nibbled at the edge of her mind. Dreams of them having dinner together, watching the sunsets by the beach, the playful conversations.

Or were they actual memories?

Then there was the touch of his hand, warm and not at all strange as it should have been.

His kiss.

She bit hard on her lower lip. Still, there was no way. No way…

"The island…it doesn't bring people back from the dead."

He met her gaze, eyes solemn. She was living proof of what was possible.

"This…" She shook her head, attempting to reassure herself that he was spouting nonsense. "I'm sorry, James. This just doesn't even sound the least bit plausible. I don't understand what the hell's going on and how you know so much about me and…and the dreams that I have, but whatever you just said…it's impossible."

She would not let him interrupt.

"You don't love me," she continued as though he hadn't said a thing. "Not me. The fact is that you are mistaken. Yes, this has got to be a mistake. That's all there is to it. I must look like someone you once knew, and…and…" She trailed off, words finally failing her. She blinked her tears back. "I'm…I'm tired."

He caught her hand as she rose to leave. When he called her name in the softest, most tender voice she'd ever heard, she thought she'd break down and cry.

"Don't go." His voice was low.

_Please._

Her resolve was weakening. Still she would not look at him.

"I lost someone once." He kept his hold on her, unwilling to let her go just yet. "I'd wake up in the middle of the night, stare at nothin' for hours…hurtin' so bad 'cause I missed her…missed her so much." His voice caught as he remembered nights where the pain was so great, he'd scream himself hoarse. He swallowed hard. "But when I came here…when I saw you, I…" He inhaled shakily. His eyes were already stinging, a sure sign of impending tears, and he dropped his gaze, almost embarrassed to let her see.

When he looked back up, a small frown had etched itself on her forehead. No doubt she was wrestling against her better judgment, which told her to keep a safe distance from him and his seemingly inane talk.

Perhaps she would stay. Perhaps she would believe him.

His countenance fell as slowly, she twisted her wrist from his grasp.

He curled his fingers into his palm, which suddenly felt empty and cold.

He sat there after she'd left him, in a state of desolateness. What should he to do next? What was Plan B? He didn't know and wasn't sure he even cared.

Minutes ticked by. Countless thoughts came and went. The light in her room went off, but only when the hour hand on the clock struck 11 did he get up, wobbly from having sat down for so long.

He hadn't meant to do what most people regarded as an invasion of privacy, but his feet carried him over until he was standing before her room. Placing his hand on the brass knob, with just a moment's hesitation, he cracked it open.

Was she asleep? She must be, he thought as a small urge propelled him into the room. At first glance, she looked as if she was deep sleep. Yet, as he crept closer, it seemed that she was far from peaceful slumber.

He could hear her murmuring, words that he could not make out. Her breathing was heavy, her face a mask of pain, as she twisted on the bed then, gripping the sheets in hard, unyielding fists, her legs bent at odd angles.

When she emitted a guttural cry that pierced right through his very heart, he jerked away from the door, literally running to gather her in his arms. He could not stand watching any longer.

She fought him at first, as if resisting his embrace, but the more she tried to push him away, the more determined he was to hold on to her. Blue eyes flew open, revealing stark terror. It made his heart clench in pain.

He called her, but could not pull her from the horror of the nightmare. She was oblivious to everything other than whatever she was experiencing inside her mind.

Then, unexpectedly, with a whimper, she no longer flailed. Her muscles slackened. The strained look she had been wearing on her face melted away.

He slowly drew in the cool night air. Beads of perspiration had formed on her forehead. He felt the wetness as he pushed back a damp tendril of blond hair from her face, keeping his other arm still wrapped around the limp figure that now seemed so heartbreakingly fragile.

"Juliet."

His whisper hung in the air of the dark room. He was certain she was awake now.

Wearily, she lifted her head. The tear tracks that stained her cheeks glistened in the bit of moonlight filtering in through the window. With her eyes filling up again, she proceeded to bury her face in his chest, where he felt her quivering sobs against him.

* * *

_Chains. _

An involuntary shudder crept up her spine.

There had been chains entangling her legs. She could not get them off, as hard as she'd tried. It felt like she was getting ripped apart. They were tightening around her, pulling her into that deep, black hole.

And then she was spiraling down. She felt the wind whipping around her as she fell.

Down…down…

"Breakfast's burnin'."

She startled back into the present. She glanced down at the pan, surprised to see blackening bacon. In addition to that, there was a charred smell in the air. She hadn't noticed.

"Uh…I forget," she mumbled, instantly pulling the pan from the stove. As quickly as she'd clutched the handle however, she jerked her hand away, her breath hissing through her teeth as the heated metal seared her skin. The pan clattered nosily to the tiled floor.

He was at her side the next moment, gently lifting the hurt hand to inspect the injury.

"I…I should've been more careful." She tried to pull away. She would not show how his concern affected her. "I'll leave it under running water for a while."

But it didn't matter what she said, because he insisted on getting the cream for her burn. As he applied the soothing cream on her skin, what she did last night came to mind again and she stiffened, thinking of how vulnerable she had been.

"You oughta be a little more careful," he said as he capped the ointment. "Next time—"

"You should go."

He stopped and cocked his head, baffled.

"You have to go, James. Go back where you came from. You shouldn't be here. You…you shouldn't have come back."

"You remember," he breathed, his eyes lighting up with pleasure.

"No," she replied, a little too fast, a little too loud.

He gazed at her, confusion written on his face.

"No, James. I don't." She repeated. "But I believe you."

A smile spread on his lips until the moment she said, "So you have to leave. Go back, or at least go somewhere far from here until…until you find a way to get off. You can't stay here."

"Why?" He drew his eyebrows together in a scowl. "If you think I'm gonna leave you behind, Juliet, you better think again."

There was a flash of something across her features, then, it was gone. She chose to ignore what he'd spoken. "If the others know you've been lying, especially Ben…"

"What makes you think he don't already know?"

Rendered silent, she merely looked at him.

"I'll go," he said. "Only if you come with me."

* * *

_The cafeteria, amassed with people ready to get going in the early morning, seemed to reverberate with the combined sounds of the clinking cutlery, like high tinkling bells, and chit chat. She held her throbbing head in her hands, the din seeming to slice through her like a sharp knife._

_The voice coming from her table was, in particular, most annoying. _

"_If La Fleur was a plant, he'd be a cactus." _

"_Don't even ask," she said dryly as Jin threw her a puzzled look. She'd given up trying to figure out Miles's many sarcastic quips._

_The Korean shrugged, and gestured to the untouched orange juice in the paper cup. "Not eating? They have good breakfast today."_

_She offered him a meager smile. "I'm not hungry."_

"_But breakfast is important."_

"_Listen to the man's words of wisdom. You're missing out." Miles waved a partially eaten sandwich at her, which he then stuffed in his mouth and went on to mumble, "Gild teeth."_

_She cast a sideways glance at Jin, who translated without missing a beat. "He means grilled cheese."_

_She felt whatever remaining of her hunger pangs depart from her. She pressed a hand to her stomach, which had started churning. It could have been the smell of fried bread and sizzling oil that had whiffed past. It could've been something else. It didn't matter. She should tell Jodi she would not be coming in. At the state she was in, she doubted she could manage to accomplish a single job for the day._

"_Mornin', sweetheart." The charming voice with a Southern accent drew her from her thoughts, and a smile tugged at her lips even before she glanced up to meet deep dimples and twinkling eyes. It nearly made the nausea leave her. _

"_James." She tilted her head up to receive his kiss on the lips. "You're up late."_

"_Hit the snooze button a little too many times," he sighed as he settled in beside her. "Miles, Jin," he greeted, then, surveyed the spread on the table. "Ain't we hungry today."_

"_Not your honey bunny," Miles waggled his brows. "She couldn't be convinced to take a bite."_

"_I'm feeling a little under the weather," she said quietly, meeting his questioning gaze. "I won't be going to the motor pool today."_

_Worry cast a shadow over his face. "What's wrong?"_

"_I've probably been working too hard. I just need some rest and I'll be fine."_

_He scrutinized her, wondering if she was merely downplaying her illness just to avoid any fuss. It would be just like her to do so._

"_Trust me."_

_Miles let out a loud belch. When both Juliet and Sawyer eyed him, he raised his hands. "Didn't mean to interrupt anything there."_

"_Well, you did, Enis."_

_He shrugged. "Sorry."_

_But Sawyer wasn't listening any longer. He tapped the wet surface of the paper cup with a finger. "It's all you're havin'?"_

"_I'll get something else later on."_

_He made a sound of approval. "I'll come by in the afternoon if I can."_

"_So, when are you guys moving in together?"_

_She sighed soundlessly._

_Sawyer deliberately dropped his gaze, then, stared darkly at Miles, who had once again so rudely interrupted their conversation. "You plannin' on movin' in with us?" _

"_Think I wanna play gooseberry?" The Chinese man sniffed. "No siree."_

"_Then don't ask, and don't interrupt when people are talkin'." He stood up. "I'm gonna grab some food before we head out. I wanna see your ass out there in five minutes, Bruce Lee. You too, Jin." Then he leaned over and planted a kiss on the side of Juliet's head, his voice softening. "I gotta go, sweetheart. I'll see you later." _

_Her gaze followed him as he stepped away, the image of his tender smile lingering in her mind._

"_Oooh, sweetheart," Miles echoed and then cooed in a falsetto. "Oh, James."_

"_Miles."_

"_What?"_

"_Shut up…please."_

* * *

Only if you go with me, he'd said. She had not allowed herself to consider the possibility. She wondered if he was even faintly aware of the magnitude of the task he was so eager to fulfill.

"You don't know what you're talking about," she said stiffly before striding away from him into the living room.

"I know more than you think I do," he protested, keeping after her doggedly. "I know you're miserable here because Ben doesn't let you go home. Juliet." He grabbed her arm. Almost instantly, she pulled away, spinning around to meet his gaze, eyes blazing.

"Why are you doing this?"

As the words flowed out, they struck her with a sense of familiarity. As hard as she tried, she could not shake it off.

"You told me you believed me. You know I came back here for you. Why are you tellin' me to go back alone?"

A sudden weariness bore down on her, a boulder lodged in her chest. She wasn't sure if she had the strength to carry through with an explanation. After the nightmare, she'd lain on the bed, unable to fall back to sleep. It never stopped flashing through her mind, like repeated movie frames that she had no way of stopping. Every single motion, every detail was imprinted on her mind. She could still feel the weight of the gun in her hands, her feet on gravel, the slight pressure against her finger as she pulled the trigger over and over, like she'd been doing it for years. The gunshots, the yells…then she heard metal. Metal clinking, bending, groaning.

And then it wasn't a dream anymore.

She remembered clinging on to him. She remembered the burning pain, the endless blood, the hot sting of tears…the hopelessness. She remembered the icy numbness that had washed over her the moment she made the realization that he would plunge into the shaft with her if he had his way.

Then she remembered letting go.

"Juliet. I need to know why."

The fury burning in her eyes had long dissipated, leaving behind unshed tears. She would not look at him, though every fiber of her being was screaming out for him.

No, she could not let him know why.

At length, she began. "If…if all you said is true," she spoke unsteadily, shifting shimmering eyes to him. "Then I never get off this island."

His head tilted, his brows dipped, not comprehending.

"I died here, James. Don't you understand? Time travel or not, I…I don't get off this island. I've been trying for years." Her voice trembled. "Maybe…maybe I was never meant to get off."

She could barely stand looking at him. Her heart felt like it was crumbling in her chest.

_I'm sorry. Because I do love you. _


	6. A Third Party Is An Unwelcome Guest

**Chapter 6**

_He ran up the stairs as quietly as he could onto the porch and inserted the key into the door. If she was sleeping, he didn't want to risk waking her. Poking his head in, he scanned the area and spotted her at the corner of the couch._

_She had changed into a comfortable pair of shorts and a plain sleeveless top, her eyes intent taking in printed words. She still hadn't noticed him, blond head buried in a leather-bound book, engrossed in an imaginary world. _

_He exhaled a sigh. So much for his advice to rest. As he entered, his boots clomped on the floor. She looked up with a surprised expression. _

_He set his keys on the counter. "Sweetheart, what are you doin'?"_

"_Reading."_

"_You should be restin', not readin'," he chastised her gently._

"_I'm resting."_

"_In bed." _

_She wrinkled her nose. "I'm nearly at the last page."_

"_And you're about to get on my last nerve if you don't do as I say," he replied fondly and crooked his finger at her. "Hell, doctors have got to be the most stubborn creatures." _

_The slightest hint of a smile played on her face. "I thought so too until I met a certain security head."_

"_Huh. Is that so? Twelve months of knowin' you and still as stubborn as ever. You comin' or do I have to do it the hard way and lug you like a sack of rice to the bedroom?"_

_She must have thought better of arguing because she did as told, knowing he was perfectly capable of carrying out his threat. _

"_Have you eaten?" He glanced over his shoulder to where she was lagging behind him._

_A guilty silence coupled with a blank look was enough of an answer. _

_She peeked at him, replying cautiously, "I ate."_

"_Really?" He stopped just before the bedroom, eyebrows raised skeptically. "And what did you have?"_

"_I had…" Her eyes darted to the ground and back to him. "I had a pill."_

_It would've been funny if she didn't make him so damned exasperated. "On an empty stomach," he concluded, aiming a disapproving look at her. "What did they teach you in medical school?"_

"_Well, technically, I'm not a real doctor."_

"_Yeah, yeah." He shepherded her into the room. "Don't want to have our resident grease monkey out for long." _

"_Huh. Is that so," she mimicked his earlier comment, a sparkle in her eyes._

"_Ah, you never realize how important you are." He pulled back the covers and motioned for her to get in. She complied, giving him a long-suffering look. Shaking his head, he quipped, "Did I tell you doctors make the worse patients?"_

"_I'm in bed now," she told him teasingly. "So you can go. You better go. They'll be wondering what happened to their fearless leader."_

_He pressed a kiss on her lips to silence her then pulled away, a mischievous smile making him look much like a young boy. "You did."_

_She didn't say a word. Lifting a hand, she trailed her fingers down the curve of his cheekbone. He caught her hand, holding it tight against his face, as he met her eyes, bright blue in the daylight, all signs of merriment gone._

_He knew what he was about to say, and from the way she suddenly broke eye contact, he didn't doubt that she knew it too. _

_It wasn't as though he hadn't said those three words to her. So far, she hadn't given him the response he yearned for most, but it was fine. He understood why she was hesitant. Broken relationships in her past left an indelible mark on her and he didn't wish to push. He didn't mind waiting, as long as she let him love her._

_He lightly squeezed her hand, causing her to look up. "Are you hungry? I'll make soup." _

_Or try to._

"_You've never made soup."_

"_Desperate times call for desperate measures, sweetheart."_

_She replied with a soft laugh. "Well…then I guess I'll have to be your guinea pig."_

"_Or I could make hot cocoa. Since I'm not much of a cook," he confessed sheepishly. _

"_Hm." She cocked her head, a smile lighting up her face. "I can live with that."_

_

* * *

_

_He hadn't known how quiet it could be in the barracks, especially at this time of the day. The drapes were drawn, shading the room from the intense glare of the afternoon sun. The ceiling fan circulated a cool breeze that occasionally ruffled the pages of an open book. _

_He threaded his fingers with hers, resting their hands on his stomach. He'd just given her another tablet. She'd self-diagnosed and told him she was suffering from the flu bug. He hadn't remembered any sniffling though she had sounded a little stuffed up, now that he recalled their previous conversation. _

_A cup, still half-full with lukewarm cocoa, sat on the bedside table, a little too close to the edge for his liking, and he shifted to push it in. She must've felt him move because she tightened her grasp on his hand. _

"_Gotta go…back to work," she remarked sleepily, eyes already drifting shut. "Miles…looking for you…"_

_He made a sound that rumbled low in his chest, giving her the impression that he would do so despite having no intention to go anywhere. He would be there when she fell asleep and he wanted to be there when she awoke. _

_He turned his gaze towards her, all of a sudden strangely conscious of a tingling warmth spreading slowly through his body, a feeling so foreign he wondered what it was. He placed a hand on his heart…waiting. It pounded steadily under his palm. _

_She sighed then, distracting him, and he smiled, amused. As he laid half-propped up in bed with her beside him, an old familiar tune wandered into his head. He stroked her hair, lost in thought, unknowingly humming the song that seemed to play to the rhythm of his heart._

_Time...__  
__I've been passing time watching trains go by__  
__All of my life...__  
__Lying on the sand, watching seabirds fly__  
__Wishing there would be__  
__Someone waiting home for me..._

* * *

He must have heard wrong. She didn't just tell him she was giving up on trying to leave this place, did she? He could not believe his ears. This was not the Juliet he knew. Juliet would do anything to get home. Those were the words from her own mouth. He hadn't forgotten them.

But as these thoughts flooded his head, a not-so-distant memory from another world wormed its way into his brain. Perhaps those thoughts were not entirely true. He remembered a time she had resigned herself to fate. It wasn't a particularly pleasant incident that was brought to mind. She had told him they were not meant to be. He hadn't known what to say then. But it was different now.

He hadn't come all this way, been through so much, just to have her give up on him.

As he opened his mouth to speak, a rap on the door sounded. He grimaced. "I'll get it."

When he pulled the door open, once again he found himself at an utter loss for words. It was apparent that the man standing on the porch had an equally horrid shock because the smile that had been draped on his lips vanished within the second.

Juliet came up and peered around him at the visitor. He sensed a stunned silence before she stepped out from behind him. "Goodwin," she exclaimed, easily hiding her surprise. "You came back."

"Did you think I wouldn't?" He replied with a flash of annoyance.

Sawyer bristled at his surly tone. If it wasn't for Juliet and her unseen restrain, he would have rammed his fist into the man's mouth. What he would give to break a couple of those gleaming teeth.

"Uh, well. That's great."

She wore a smile which he couldn't tell was genuine or not. He was busy fending off the icy daggers that were flying in his direction, scowling as she gestured to him. "This is—"

"We met."

His words came out chillier than he'd intended them to be. Juliet's long look warned him to be cordial.

Fine. He'd be cordial.

Swallowing his pride, which seemed akin to trying to gulp a stone, he stuck out his hand and said gruffly, "Nice to meet you."

Some tense seconds ticked by. Getting no response from the other party, he dropped his hand and glancing at Juliet, shrugged. He'd tried.

"I heard things on the sub. About you. They're saying you're important, that you've got backing here on the island. Especially from Ben." A demeaning smirk grew. "What did you do? Brainwash the man?"

"Goodwin—"

"Come on," Sawyer drawled, summoning a lazy grin as he leaned on the doorframe. "Such underhanded means only you can think of."

He nearly let slip a chuckle at the flabbergasted expression on Juliet's face. Goodwin, however, only tightened his lips, jaw clenched.

"I'm Mr Nice Guy. That's why they like me." He winked. "Especially Juliet. We get along real well."

Goodwin lurched forward and would have landed one on his face if he hadn't ducked in time.

"How can you stand him, Julie," he snarled, glaring at the Southerner. "He's an intolerable pest."

Talk about self-descriptions, he thought fleetingly, folding his arms and trying in vain not to grin a little too broadly.

"Maybe you'd like to come in another day."

"I'll come in if he goes out," Goodwin growled through clenched teeth, glowering.

Sawyer rolled his eyes. What a douchebag.

"I didn't come to visit. Ben asked me to pass a message."

As if on cue, both their gazes shot to him, guarded and partially fearful.

"Sawyer," the older man spat as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. "Has just been ordered to the Hydra Island."

* * *

There were the sounds of steel hitting granite ringing in the air in an uneven rhythm, sounds of soil being scraped and a disgruntled voice that wasn't exactly quiet, but wasn't loud enough to be heard by others.

"Can't believe I'm doin' this again. Whoever thought it? Comin' back to break rocks. And not just that, I gotta dig too. Bugsy says they're need more manpower and you're in good form. Yeah, right," he grumbled, jabbing the ground with his spade. "What're they expectin'? Another plane to come flyin' down soon?"

He needed a breather. His hands were aching and his tired fingers needed a stretch. He let his gaze travel to where she was, deep in conversation with Danny.

It was a scenario he knew all too well. Only this time they hadn't tasers and guns.

"She's like Barbie, isn't she?"

"Wrong."He answered shortly. "She's modified Barbie with brains. There's a big difference there, sonny."

"Name's Derek."

He turned his head to a boy who barely looked a day over twenty yet proudly bore the muscles of a fully matured man. Derek was shirtless, which according to him, meant that the guy wasn't shy to flaunt his assets. Tall and broad-shouldered with a shock of reddish-brown hair, he had eager hazel eyes that, much to his irritation, stared for too long at his sweetheart.

He straightened up, dug his spade firmly in the ground, and rested his weight on it. "Piece of advice for you, Don Juan. Don't let that eye wander too far. Get me?" He left no room for doubt as to what he meant.

By the time he turned away from Derek, Danny had stomped off in a huff, leaving Juliet pacing back and forth on the grass, looking vexed. But as he watched on, she slowed to a stop and blankness settled over her features. It always intrigued him, the way she managed to switch gears so quickly. Then she was pulling her hair up in a bun. He'd always wondered how she did that. Tie her hair without those girl-band-things to hold it all together.

She must have felt his eyes on her because she twisted her head, her gaze sweeping the area, as if searching for someone, before it landed on him. Now aware that he had been staring at her, she blinked, then, turned away.

He returned to his digging with a renewed fury.

"Maybe she'll like me," Derek said wistfully.

Apparently the boy hadn't taken the hint that he was unwelcome.

"She ain't ever gonna like you, sonny."

"You barely even know her."

"Two reasons. Number one," he shoved his spade into the ground with a groan. "She got me."

"You guys ain't even _together_. So long as—"

He snorted. "Son, don't act Southern when you ain't Southern," he stated with a heavy emphasis on the accent. "Number two, she don't go for boys."

"I'm not a boy." Derek scowled and flexed his muscles.

"That ain't gonna get you anywhere with her, sonny."

"Whatever. Juliet and you, or anybody else, can't be together. Ben—"

"Derek!" Danny yelled in irritation from the other end of the site. "Quit jabbering and get to work!"

Derek, muttering obscenities, obeyed sulkily and trudged off to his own patch of land to resume digging.

* * *

Insecurity.

One would never imagine how huge a barrier it was for her to overcome. Three years spent with a man who loved her had not been enough time to build a healthy self-esteem. She knew it bothered him, the way she always felt like second best. Those seemingly insignificant thoughts about her past created nagging doubts that would sometimes wake her up at night and make her wonder.

And in the end, it was insecurity that caused her downfall.

She bit her lower lip, studying him from afar. All the pretending just contributed to making life tougher than it already was, but it was the only thing stopping James from carrying out the rest of his plan. If he knew that she had regained all her memories, he would find some way to get her home, even if Ben said no outright. Then it would be Armageddon on the island.

She balked at the thought. She didn't care for another attempt at blowing up the island.

Life was playing one big, nasty joke on her.

She rid herself of the depressing thoughts, grabbed one of the three bottles off the nearest wooden table, and headed for him.

"You must be tired."

He merely grunted as he forcibly swung the pickax to the ground.

He'd been alternating between shoveling soil and breaking rocks for the past hour. She guessed he probably had no energy left to speak. "Do you want to know what you're doing here?"

"Last I heard," he finally said, short of breath as he pulled the ax up. "They were buildin' a runway for the aliens."

"I think somebody just stole my line," she mumbled under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing," she replied mildly. "Water?" She held out the plastic bottle.

He stopped his ceaseless swinging and let the tool fall to the ground. Taking the drink, he gulped half of it down and splashed the rest on his face. She stood by trying not to smile, reminded of the first time she had offered him a drink.

_At least he's not dumping it all on the ground this time._

"Ring a bell?"

She frowned. "What?"

"Runway. Aliens." He angled his chin down, mentally prodding her. "Ring any bells?"

"Not unless we were in a galaxy far, far away a lifetime ago," she joked, producing a grin when he rolled his eyes.

"Hilarious," he remarked wryly.

They took their lunch a little way from the rest, disregarding the odd looks that were shot at them from time to time. He made her laugh with his cynical comments about the others. He offered to swap his sandwich with hers when he discovered that hers had butter on it. Of course he would remember she had a dislike for butter. The way they bantered during the entire meal made her realize that it was dangerously easy to fall back into the same routine she used to have with him.

"I was just thinkin' Harper belonged to them."

Meaning the aliens.

He never strayed far from the topic of aliens since his first referral to them. In any case, it made a smile crack on her face. "You're incorrigible."

"Just the way you like me." He winked and popped the last bite into his mouth. Then, crushing up the translucent paper that had held the sandwich, he reached for his water. "Do you know how long we gotta stay here?"

"No. Until the runway's built, I guess. Ben never told me why he needed a runway," she answered. "Why?"

He didn't reply. When she saw him glance in the direction of the cages, her heart gave a bit of a jerk. "Memories?"

His eyes clouded over. "More like regrets." Then his face cleared and the tiniest smile appeared. "But I met you here, so I can't say nothin'."

"Hm. You did?"

"You shocked me. Literally," he added, the smile turning into an amused grin.

She chuckled, remembering their first meeting. It wasn't exactly love at first sight. They had come a long way. She paused, then, reined in the thought quickly, sobering. She picked up one of the two oranges that they'd been given and began to peel them, sending him an inquisitive glance when for the first time during the meal, silence descended upon them. He had been fiddling with a napkin for quite a while.

"You're quite taken with that, aren't you?"

He looked up for a second, only giving a mysterious smile before he returned his attention back to whatever he was doing.

Finished with peeling the orange, she removed the seeds, because she knew he would only eat them that way – pet peeve, he'd informed her once - and offered him a couple of segments the very moment he held out his hand.

She blinked at him, confused, then, lowered curious eyes to his hand.

A slightly misshapen heart lay in the middle of his open palm.

Her chest tightened. She extended fingers that reached out hesitantly and curled gently around the edges of the napkin-folded heart. The beginning of tears blurring her vision, she brought it to her, holding it like she would hold a treasure.

A boyish grin spread across his face. "I got Amy to teach me. Drove her crazy. She told me I was a slow learner."

Her lips curled up at the corners. She looked at him with glistening eyes, and in halting words, told him that it was beautiful.


	7. What Cannot Be Hidden

**Chapter 7**

She wandered through the cluster of trees, the night wind whispering through the branches. Leaves rustled in the dark. The sounds of the waves were getting closer. She pulled at the long sleeves of the navel blue cotton shirt she was wearing as she pattered her way down to the beach. Already a few days had passed and still she could not get used to her new bed. And much as she hated to admit it, she sorely missed the comforting presence of Sawyer right in the same house.

Her shoes made scuffing sounds as they hit sand instead of hard soil. Lifting her head, she noticed that someone had reached the beach before her. She paused in her footsteps.

He sat in rugged jeans and a T-shirt, the wind ruffling his hair as he ran his hand through the sand, letting it trickle slowly through his fingers. Waves gently rolled up on the shore, barely missing his feet before they returned back to the sea.

She took in a quiet breath, then, headed out to him.

"Can't sleep?"

He smiled, gazing out at the black water. "I'm lookin' for fish."

It was a reference to a sentence she'd said to him a long time ago, she remembered. There was something odd about the way he said it. She gazed at him curiously, unable to put her finger on what it was that made her strangely uncomfortable.

"The stars are pretty tonight," he went on to say.

Ignoring the clanging of warning bells in her head, she sat down beside him, pulling her knees up to her chest. Tilting her head back, she met handfuls of bright, twinkling stars sprinkled over the black sky. He was right. They were pretty. A slow smile spread across her face. "Look." Her voice a hushed whisper, she pointed upwards, recognizing constellations. "There's the Big Dipper. And the North Star."

"Can't see them."

"See there, James. See the Little Dipper?" She said with a lilt in her voice.

She was now literally glowing with excitement. He couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his lips. "I see a rabbit, Juliet."

She giggled softly. "You always see rabbits. You never spot the constellations, James. Every time we—" she broke off suddenly, her eyes widening as she realized what she had said.

She knew he heard her. No amount of backpedaling could help her now. She waited with bated breath as he stared at her, all mirth gone from his features.

He seemed to want to say something. His lips parted. His eyes were dark. Then he touched the side of her face, caressing her cheek. It seemed that an eternity passed before he whispered.

"You remember."

She tried to shake her head, but it would not obey.

"I knew you remembered."

A voice within her was screaming. _Tell him he's wrong! Tell him now!_

She tried. She really did, but her throat had tightened so much to the point that it was preventing her from speaking. Denying was not an option, not when his burning gaze was looking right through her pretense.

It came to her that this was it. There was no way of escaping the truth.

_Juliet._

It was a plea, one that fueled the urge within her to do as he said. Yet, searching out the last of her resolve, she fought against it, refusing to let it conquer her. She couldn't give in. She'd gone too far, too deep to turn back.

She struggled to breathe, hands pushing deep into the smooth grains of sand. But she could not feel the bits embedding themselves in her skin. His lips were hovering over hers. She only felt the heat emanating from his body.

When he captured her mouth with his, she shuddered. A thrill like a current of electricity shot up her spine, travelling all the way to her head, dispersing whatever thought that was in process. Her head pounded with one name over and over as if the ability to form a coherent thought had vanished into thin air. His lips were a fiery sweetness that she could not get enough of. He deepened the kiss and the surroundings melted away. She was conscious of nothing more than the temptation to lose herself in him. She didn't want it to end.

Then she heard choking sobs. He was crying, his voice raw with anguish. "God, I need you, Juliet. I need you. I need you so much."

Could he ever know how much it hurt her to hear him in such pain?

Her tears spilled over, rolling down her face. I need you too, she wanted to say, but she was unable to speak the words out loud. She pressed her body against his, needing more, wanting more.

She cared no longer that they might be spotted, or that such a situation would endanger them. She was finally admitting that she had been in denial. She'd foolishly told herself that she could handle not seeing him again. As long as she knew he was living a life free from this island, she would be fine. Not happy, but fine.

Uncontrollable sobs began to wrack her body like never before. She clutched at his shirt, breaths coming in heavy gasps as tears poured from her eyes in hot streams.

It was nothing more than a big, fat lie. But she'd chosen to believe it rather than acknowledge the hard fact that her heart was telling her. That if he did leave, she would die. She would be in a world devoid of all emotion, emptied of hope, a piteous soul lost in the hellish darkness.

Was there a limit to her selflessness?

She was desperate to know. She was tired of giving. She was tired of never being able to have what she wanted. She was tired of being alone on this terrifying journey.

She finally had someone to love who loved her fiercely in return and she was letting him slip through her fingers because she thought it was best for him. But who was she to determine what was best for him? All this time she had been pushing him away, thinking it was the right thing to do, and it turned out that she'd only been doing him more harm than good.

At length, she became faintly aware that she was being rocked. He was holding her in his arms, stroking her hair, murmuring over and over that he loved her. She quieted, the gentle rhythm comforting her.

What would it be like to have even that taken away from her?

She thought about no more needing to wrestle with her feelings, no more inner conflicts, no more pretending. She thought about finally loving freely, without fear of the consequences.

And the decision was made.

This masquerade was over.

They needed no words. He took one look at her and broke into the most beautiful smile. His eyes shone as brightly as the stars above him.

Relief flooded her entire being. She felt as though a great load had been lifted off her shoulders. Through blurry vision, she whispered, "I love you."

"I know." His voice was hoarse from crying, but the pain that she had heard earlier was no longer. Tenderly, he cupped her face with both hands and wiped away the remnants of her tears. Then he smiled. "I love you too."

* * *

He didn't flaunt their relationship, but neither did he make a special effort to hide the fact that they were more than just friends. After all, there was already speculation about them being a couple, so why bother? That was his way of thinking and he wasn't about to change it. He wasn't afraid to let people know where he stood on this issue, but Juliet, on the other hand, was almost the exact opposite. She was cautious, even with Ben's missing presence, and so he made sure not to do anything that would upset her.

A week passed and he was more than ready to leave the wretched Hydra Island and its runway. Both of them returned to find an unusually moody Alex loitering in front of their house.

"Now this is strange," Juliet mused.

"What's strange? We've got a welcome party, sweetheart." He raised a hand in the air and yelled, "Nice to see you, Sheena!"

"Hi, Alex," Juliet added once they came within talking distance. She pushed the key into the door and let it swing open. "Wanna come in for a bit?"

The young brunette trudged into the house after them.

"Amelia not keeping you company today?"

She uttered a sound of disgust. "Not after I ruined her last batch of muffins. I'm so glad you guys are back. I've been bored outta my skull."

"Where's your other half," Sawyer teased. "You guys are always stickin' together like glue. Tell me he ain't the reason why you're lookin' all down in the dumps today."

"He has some stuff to do." Alex scowled. "Won't tell me what either. Idiotic secrecy."

"Sensin' some jealous vibes there, Sheena."

"Yeah, right."

"You're always welcome here if you need someone to talk to."

The young girl's face brightened at Juliet's words. "So I can stay here?"

"You can until Ben expects you back." Juliet gripped one of the duffel bags and disappeared into the kitchen. Meanwhile, Alex had plopped down onto the sofa and was propping her legs up on the table.

"Go right ahead. Make yourself at home," he remarked dryly.

"Can I ask something?"

"What?"

"Is it true that you guys are, you know…together?"

Gossip spreads faster than wildfire, they say. Only this ain't gossip. "And what makes you think so?"

"Doesn't take a genius to figure out. They've been talking, and Goodwin has, like, a permanent scowl on his face and he's always cursing 'the new guy on the island'. He's still mad that Ben allowed Juliet to go with you to the Hydra Island."

"Well, she's supposed to be my guide. I had to ask her to come along."

"Whatever. Nobody believes that."

He had a choice to either scoff in derision or groan in exasperation. He did neither. "I'm thinkin' too many people around here have nothin' to do but poke their noses into our love lives. They oughta move on to Ben and Harper."

Alex snickered. "You have _got_ to be kidding."

"I bet Ben has his needs."

"You're gross."

"Just sayin' it like it is," he stated matter-of-factly and dodged as she tossed a couch pillow at him.

"Don't change the subject. Are you together with Juliet or not?"

"We're living together and that's all you need to know, Alex," came a muffled reply from somewhere within the house.

"She means drop it," he translated. "But that is all you need to know. Any more information and we'll have to kill you."

"You guys are the most interesting thing happening around here and I can't even talk about it," she griped. "This place stinks."

"I heard that!"

"I didn't mean the _house_, Juliet!" She rolled her eyes at Sawyer. "She gets like that sometimes. A bit sensitive. You have to forgive her."

He realized that at least it succeeded in getting the girl off the previous topic. Leaning back, he crossed his legs and relaxed sore muscles against the softness of the couch. That felt good. It was a welcome change from slogging his guts out under the hot sun at this time of the day. "So, what've you and ol' faithful been up to? Rompin' in the jungle?"

"No." Her tone was almost defiant then turned gloomy. "Ben called to talk to him a few days ago and now he rarely appears. And when he does, he doesn't have time for me. It's just stupid. He thinks doing whatever my dad asks him to do will make him a man or something."

"Give him a bit of time. I'm sure he'll come back to you."

"He'd better or I'll kill him," she muttered with a dark look.

When it became quiet, he slid down the couch until his head rested on the cushioned top. He let his eyes fall shut. It was definitely comfortable enough to lure him to sleep. He was so very tired…

"Sawyer?"

"Present," he mumbled. Was that the sandman calling?

"How's it like in the other world? Like outside the island? Is it exciting and never-ending fun and all that?"

"Uh…" Eyes closed, he tried to get his exhausted brain to function. "It's a crazy world out there, Lollipop. It's full of…everything…dark…peaceful…" He felt himself slipping away as his words began to jumble up.

"I wish I could go someday."

He wanted to let her know that she would. Maybe if he was lucky and Ben was cooperative, he could take both Juliet and Alex off the island. Of course, he would send Alex back. After all, Ben was her father. He couldn't just snatch her away like nobody's business.

But by the time he got his sentences right, he was beyond the point of no return, and he willingly let the soothing blackness envelope him.

* * *

_The lump in his pocket moved and he placed his hand over it, as if to still the thing from fidgeting too much. He found it out there in the woods near the creek less than an hour ago, when he was heading back to the barracks. Seeing it brought back a memory that made him wince and with it perhaps a little pinch of regret. He didn't know what made him scoop it up and carry it into the van with him, but he did. In the passenger seat, Miles only stared at him with an expression that plainly said he was nuts._

_Anyway, for the entire journey back, it had sat there, unblinking, while he'd thought of how she was going to react to his latest find. He'd highly doubted she was the kind of woman to freak out over a small issue, right? Maybe they could even keep it as a pet. His eyebrows had dipped then, as he remembered the insufferable noise it was capable of making. On second thought, maybe it wasn't such a great idea. _

"_James?"_

_He spun around, hand still hovering over his pocket. Juliet stood in the doorway, fresh from the bath, it seemed. She aimed a quizzical look at him as he tried to erase the guilt from his face._

"_Hi," he said weakly._

"_What're you doing out here?" _

"_Nothin'." _

_And at that exact timing, there came a croak that sounded terribly out of place in the conversation._

_She cocked her head, flaxen hair tilting at one angle. When it happened again, she stepped out onto the porch, approaching him. He dipped his hand into his pocket, feeling the wet cold rubbery texture against his warm skin._

"_I found somethin'. Today," he began haltingly._

"_Okay." _

"_I was drivin' home when I picked it off the road." Or leaf, to be precise._

"_Uh-huh." She folded her arms, looking at though she was swallowing back laughter._

"_You won't get all screamy and girly when you see it, will you?"_

"_Depends on what it is I see."_

"_It ain't gonna harm anybody."_

_He could see that the more he talked, the more her amusement turned into wariness. He shouldn't drag this on any longer. Maybe he was just making a mountain out of a molehill. Who knows. She might be fond of it._

_He wrapped his fingers gently over the creature and pulled it out. "It's a little tree frog. Was drivin' home when I saw…heard it croakin'."_

_The amphibian was motionless on his palm, save the movement of its gleaming skin when it breathed. He looked carefully at her. Her gaze was on the bright green frog with red eyes, her expression unreadable. Did she like it? Hate it? He couldn't tell. At least she wasn't screaming her head off like he knew some females would. She was calm. That was a good sign, wasn't it?_

"_A frog," she uttered. _

_Something prompted him to reveal the reason behind his actions. He cleared his throat. "I…squished a frog once. Here. On the island. A long time ago. I saw this guy and thought I'd bring him home."_

_She was listening, and she understood. He knew she understood. That was one of those things he loved about her. She didn't care to tell him how idiotic and immature it had been of him to have killed a defenseless frog, or how stupid it was to drive another one to their house like it would make up for what he had done in the past. She didn't tell him because she was well aware of what it meant to him. How much it meant._

_Even if he didn't say it out loud._

"_Do you want to keep it?"_

_He shook his head, his mouth curving into a little smile. "I just wanted to show it to you."_

* * *

No one was willing to leave the comfort of each other to prepare dinner, though it was nearing eight at night. But soon he would have to leave. And it was not to get food. He needed to talk to Ben. It was imperative. He needed to let the man know they wanted off the island and whether he agreed or not, he was going to take her back to where she belonged.

He hadn't said anything about it to her yet, but he would have to, because tonight could not wait any longer. He had to find the right break in their conversation or whatever it was that they were doing to tell her and so far, it hadn't come. At the moment, he was attempting to braid her hair. He knew how the process went, but it was obvious that he was not proficient at it. He fumbled many times, the strands slipping out of his grasp. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, he tried to recall the instructions she'd related to him before.

_Cross right side over middle. Pull. Cross left side over middle. Tighten._

He tugged once. Then twice for good measure.

"Ow."

"Almost done," he muttered, maneuvering the locks of hair as skillfully as he could.

"If I may remind you, you said the same thing 15 minutes ago," she mumbled, stifling a yawn. "My legs are getting numb."

"I know how to do it. Just give me a bit of time."

He had to admit it was a rather messy braid that he'd accomplish once he was done. It looked nothing like what she usually did. She could do it twice as good with half the time given. But she leaned into him and told him she liked it. Well, okay, she did just say good try, but he swore she looked pleased.

She stretched out on the bed then with her head in his lap. He rubbed his thumb against the lobe of her ear and hummed his angel song. She listened to him, a dreamy smile spreading across her face. They talked about anything and everything. He told her how their companions were doing off the island. Jack. Kate. Hurley. Sun. But due to his depressed state at that time, he barely noticed what was going on, thus, his information was quite vague.

Then she asked if any of them had plans to go Portland. Perhaps they could do her a favor. He laughed and said they would go to Portland themselves, once they got off the island. They'd fly straight to see her sister and there, build a new life together. His days as a conman would be long over. He'd get a good job. They would start a family. Him and Juliet. Maybe have two kids. One boy and one girl. And they would be the sweetest angels, just like their mom.

"You make it sound so easy to go home together," she was saying.

Go home together. He liked the sound of that.

"I've got my ways, so don't you worry about that," he told her as he loosen the braid and ran his fingers through her abundance of golden tresses. This was a piece of heaven that he wished could go on forever. But he knew it wouldn't last until he got that obstacle looming over him out of the way. It had to be done tonight, and now was as good a time as any to tell her so. "Sweetheart," he said quietly. "I'm goin' out to talk to someone."

"Who?"

He let out his breath. "Ben."

She sat up almost immediately. Her face tightened. Her eyes clouded over, but he sensed, more than saw, the rapid change of mood.

"Hey, it's okay." He tried to reach out to her, but she wasn't having any of it. "I'm not going to do anything stupid. We're just going to talk. A civilized man-to-man—"

"Ben don't do civilized," she said in a voice tinged with tears.

His influence must be rubbing off her. "You're turnin' into a regular Southerner, woman," he said with a teasing edge to his voice but the joke fell flat when she didn't crack a smile. "Come here, sweetheart." He gathered her in his arms. "I promise you. Nothin's gonna happen. Look, all this time, nothin's happened. Nobody's stompin' up our doorway demandin' we break up. They haven't said anythin'. "

"Doesn't mean they don't notice," she muttered, blinking hard.

"Hey, trust me, okay? I know how to talk to him. We're gonna leave this place. We're gonna go home together. I won't leave you alone here." He grasped her shoulders and met her eyes, eyes that were terrified and filled with uncertainty. She's scared of losing him, he realized, and felt his heart tug. He brushed her cheek with his thumb. "Ten minutes. I'll be gone just ten minutes."

At last, with much persuasion and coaxing, she lay back in his arms, resigned. "Alright," she finally said. "Ten minutes." Her hand crept up to his chest and rested there, where his heart thumped in an even rhythm under her palm. Steadily. Reassuringly.

As it should be.


End file.
